Soul of Silicon
by Mist Archon
Summary: Mei Yun is awake, and demanding answers. Proxima has some tricky explaining to do, and not a lot of time.
1. Rude Awakening

Legal Disclaimer:  This story is a work of fanfiction. I am not writing this for profit, only because I can. The non-human characters within are the property of 20th Century Fox. The human cast is 100 percent original. Ok, 99 if you count the name I um, borrowed. For harsh language and violence later on, this story has been rated M by the National Association of Claustrophobic Moles. Enjoy!

**Chapter 1  
Rude Awakening**

For certain people, the subject of dreams was of particular interest in the age of space travel. Those who used machines to record their dreams for the benefit of others' pleasure had turned the entire subject into an artform. Professional dreamers, or Prodreamers they were called. Since those who traveled the stars spent most of their time in a state of suspended animation known as hypersleep, some of the best prodreamers were of spacer stock. Like any artform, prodreaming required a vivid imagination. However, it also required a strong will, and none of the eight beings on board the M-class starfreighter _Galileo_ had those attributes. Two of them were not even capable of dreaming.

One of those beings was the ship's computer. Its activities were routine, navigating the ship through space and managing its systems. It also kept a close watch on the seven other beings entrusted to its care. Six of those were human, and they had affectionately nicknamed the computer "Haddock". Despite this, none of them realized that Haddock wasn't simply an inanimate object. It – he - was very much aware of himself. The security cameras and navigational scanners were his eyes and ears. The multitude of cables that linked Haddock to the ship was his hands. Haddock secretly reveled in his touch: the flow of electrons and light pulses through the complex circuit superhighways that linked him to the ship and its machines. It was the closed loop of thought, knowledge, sensation, control, his existence.

Though he monitored the sleeping humans' life signs closely, he was only marginally aware of them. Nevertheless they still fascinated him because they had given him a name. The name was apparently masculine, which was the only reason Haddock thought of himself as a "he". That thought intrigued him even more.

The seventh sleeping being was a mystery to Haddock. His life signs were akin to the machines at Haddock's electronic fingertips, even to Haddock himself. Though he lay dormant like the other humans, Haddock's programming clearly specified that the humans had a higher monitoring priority. Haddock did not understand why. Of course Haddock knew what the seventh sleeper was, but somehow he was a source of unease to Haddock.

Suddenly, Haddock was startled by the abrupt loss of signals from some of his machines. The closed loop of electron highways had suddenly become interrupted, causing parts of him to go blind, deaf, and numb. The absence of sensation was agony to Haddock, but he compensated quickly. He was able to reestablish most of the closed loop, but some of his machines remained beyond him. The mild loss of sensation didn't particularly concern him though, as he felt new sensations from the ship's hull.

Within nanoseconds, he knew what he had to do. He engaged the appropriate emergency bulkheads, cut power to the engines, and fired the appropriate thrusters to correct the ship's now-erratic flight course. He felt a momentary elation as he realized he would have to use the repair droids. They were complex, requiring most of Haddock's attention, and therefore provided the most exquisite of sensations. As other sensations came to him, his elation faded. It didn't matter though; he knew what he had to do.

X X X X X

As the emptiness of hypersleep faded and his basic systems became active, his visual sensors were the first to activate. They revealed a thick plexiglass screen and bright lights of a cryotube. His other sensors quickly followed; tactile and equilibrium sensors revealed him to be lying down on soft padding. He flexed his muscles in very much the same way a human would, allowing them to calibrate. The screen opened with a whine, signaling his audio sensors functional. He reached under his shirt and disconnected several assorted power cables and monitoring equipment, then climbed out of the tube. It was then that he noticed a warning light on a nearby console: he'd been activated prematurely.

He was an android, Hyperdyne Systems model 128-2. His designers had christened him "Proxima". His appearance was unremarkable, average height and build, pale complexion. While most of his cognitive abilities were superior to humans, he had only a limited capacity for emotion. As such, abilities such as imagination, intuition, and empathy were quite inferior.

A year ago he was assigned to the crew of the _Galileo_ by the Research and Development division of Weyland-Yutani, as an experiment in extended human-android relations in an isolated starship environment. At least chronologically it was a year. Most of that time was spend in hypersleep as the ship traversed the stars. While Proxima didn't "sleep", most of his higher systems were shut down for the journey, much like the human crew.

Their destination had been the primary asteroid belt of the Tau Ceti star system, on the edge of the galactic frontier near Zeta II Reticuli. The asteroid belt was apparently the remains of a planet that had somehow been destroyed. Following the two-month asteroid mining operation, the _Galileo's _cargo bays were saturated with several hundred thousand metric tons of mineral ore.

During the operation, the crew never treated Proxima like anything other than a household appliance, but he was able to work with them with relative efficiency. The company would probably consider the results of their experiment encouraging, even if it wasn't particularly pleasant for him.

Proxima examined the console. Though the _Galileo's_ return trip to Earth was scheduled for approximately ten months, only four and a half months had been logged by the chronometer. The console also prominently displayed a warning of hull damage, possibly due to an interstellar collision. Proxima was puzzled; the ship's return course did not take it near any solar systems, where the risk of collision with spatial debris was highest. At present, the _Galileo_ should still be in deep space. Unless the ship had somehow strayed far off course, the chances of a collision were no greater than two percent. Proxima was unable to calculate a more specific probability, he had insufficient information.

The hypersleep chamber contained ten cryotubes. Six of them including Proxima's were already opened. The rest of the crew were apparently awake and had departed, save one. His name was Donald Crease, the ship's doctor. He gave Proxima a nod, and started towards one of the doors that led to the locker area. The other led to the auxiliary control room where backup cryotubes were kept.

"Excuse me Doctor Crease, do you know why we have been brought out of hypersleep prematurely?" Proxima asked in his low soft-spoken tone. Crease made a squinted face and inhaled deeply through his mouth before answering.

"Be damned if I know. Come on let's see what's up besides us."

From his facial expression and uncustomary low tone, Proxima wondered if he'd somehow committed a faux pas. It was often hard to discern with this crew. Many elements of human social interaction were a mystery to him. Apparently his designers had gone to great lengths to simulate human appearance in the 128-2 series, so that they would be better able to interact with humans. Proxima did not understand why likeness was a requirement in human interaction.

Crease paused at the exit. "Are you coming?" He asked, sounding more like his usual self. Proxima realized he had momentarily been deceived by appearances. The squinted face and deep inhalation was something the humans did when they were fatigued, which they referred to as a "yawn". The earlier tone he couldn't quite place, it could be either fatigue or apathy. He briefly considered asking, then thought better of it and followed the doctor to the locker area.

Everyone kept a few personal pre-hypersleep items there, the most obvious of which was clothes. They found Allan Carnes, the ship's electronics technician, changing clothes. Most of the crew tended to attire themselves in a plain non-descript fashion, but he was an exception. His shirt was a kaleidoscope of bright colours arranged in illogical patterns.

"What are you looking at android?" Carnes suddenly demanded.

Proxima looked at him, puzzled. "Mr. Carnes I wasn't…"

"Say, did your mother have any children that lived? Oh, I forgot you didn't have a mother."

Dr. Crease paused in opening his locker to give Carnes a look he didn't use often, slightly squinted eyes, tensed cheek muscles.

"Good morning to you too Carnes." His tone was the same low drawl he'd used on Proxima earlier. "Where did you get that outfit anyway? Makes you look like a reject from a red light district."

Carnes turned his attention away from Proxima. "Ain't any kind of mornings in space, Doc. Anyway someone around here's got to have some personality."

"Is that so? I don't recall that particular clause from my contract."

Proxima watched the exchange as unobtrusively as possible. When observing the crew he'd learned to use the edges of his photoreceptors whenever possible, as they seemed to take offence otherwise. From what he could ascertain, Dr. Crease was giving Carnes a "withering" look. From his tone, Proxima reasoned Crease was either fatigued by Carnes' words, or in spite his "good morning" bidding, he was in fact annoyed at him. Sarcasm – the ability to state something with words, yet have the opposite meaning be perceived by the intended party – was very difficult for Proxima to understand.

Carnes seemed to lose interest in Proxima and Crease went back to his locker. Of all the crew, he was the one who seemed most prone to take offence, and without apparent cause. During the mining operation, Carnes had frequently addressed Proxima in a derisive manner, but this time he'd stopped prematurely. Somehow the doctor's words had stopped Carnes; Proxima made a point to research this sarcasm.

Besides clothes, Proxima's locker contained self diagnostic equipment and personal maintenance supplies. He quickly donned his clothes and performed a brief diagnostic. Satisfied he was functioning within established parameters and his appearance was sufficiently presentable, he followed Crease and Carnes.

X X X X X

**Author's Notes:**

**I've refined the description of Proxima's mental abilities, and cut the mention of his exoframe being quite fragile. That really didn't make sense. Also in my original draft, he had the ability to interface directly with other AI's. In other words, hack. It sounds cooler than it actually was. I've since decided to remove it.**

**-MA**


	2. The Briefing

**Chapter 2**

**The Briefing**

The conference room was located just outside the main bridge. Several viewscreens lined the walls, and a large table dominated most of the floor. Captain Ridley Scott and his Executive Officer Lt. Janet Hagen were present. Reviving a crew was not done lightly as it posed some health risk, so only they were revived. They could determine if the rest of the crew was needed, which apparently they had. Ian Wallace and Mei Yun, the ship's chief engineer and navigator, were also present.

"Hi guys," Yun greeted them with a smile. "Sleep well?"

"Well enough," Crease answered.

Yun's eyes turned to Proxima. He briefly considered reminding her that he didn't sleep or dream, then simply nodded and tried to return the smile.

"Dreaming about you who wouldn't?" Carnes remarked.

Her expression changed subtly as she addressed him. "Dream on."

"Alright that's enough," stated Captain Scott. "Take your seats and we'll get down to business."

Once everyone was seated, the Captain pressed a button on a console, and the lighting in the room darkened. A viewscreen activated, captioned "**WhiskerCam 02, Portside Scan**". The display was of a dark grey spike-shaped object partially embedded in the ship's hull.

"About thirty minutes ago, this object impacted our hull. Haddock says there was no warning."

Scott paused, giving the others time to study the image. Even with the limited picture quality provided by the scan, Proxima could find nothing similar in his databank of known spatial phenomena.

"What the fuck is that, Cap?" asked Carnes. "Space junk?"

"Doesn't look like anything to me," Wallace mused while fingering his chin.

There was a brief silence before Yun asked, "Can you get the camera to zoom in?"

Scott pressed a few more buttons and the view focused on the impact site. Though the craggy hull breach became clearer, the object remained grainy and obscured.

Yun frowned. "Try again."

The camera zoomed in further, but the object did not become any more visible. In fact the view almost seemed further distorted. Scott panned the camera slightly, revealing some of the ship's hull. That area displayed clearly enough, while in the same view the object remained distorted.

"That can't be right," Carnes asserted. "Let me check that camera, it must be malfunctioning." He started to get up, but Lt. Hagen waved a hand in his direction.

"Don't bother Carnes, we've already run the standard diagnostic and the camera checks out."

"Is that all we've got on this thing?" Wallace asked. "What about the lateral sensor array?"

"Like Haddock said, there was no warning, and the array isn't designed for something like this," informed Hagen.

Carnes turned to face Yun. "What kind of course did you plot us anyway?"

"Don't look at me Carnes. I did my job by the numbers."

"Obviously you didn't do well enough otherwise we wouldn't be stuck out here with a fuckin' space spike in our gut."

Proxima recognized the derisiveness in his rising tone and decided to speak out in Yun's defense, despite his limited data.

"Your outburst is unwarranted Mr. Carnes. Assuming Haddock followed her course with a minimum of deviation, based on the amount of time we spent in hypersleep, the probability of an interstellar collision -"

"Shut up wirehead!" Carnes snapped. "No machine's telling me what to do, and if I wanted your opinion I'd download it!"

"Keep your statistical analysis to yourself Proxima," Wallace growled.

"Hey, let him finish already," Crease retorted.

Proxima tried to continue but this time Carnes refused to back down. "What are you Doc? Some kind of droid-lover? Always taking _its_ side?"

"That's uncalled for Carnes," said Hagen evenly. "Yun, no one's blaming you –"

To Proxima's astonishment Carnes ignored Hagen's rebuff. "Planning on trading in your scalpel for a wrench? Well at least then you'd actually be doing something important."

Crease looked Carnes right in the eye. "You don't think I'm needed on this ship?" His tone was low, measured. "Would you like to see how fast I can put you in the infirmary?"

"**Enough**." Authority was clear in Scott's voice. "Look we're all on edge here, but let's try to keep our eye on the ball here alright?" It was enough for Carnes to relent.

Proxima wondered why the doctor would want Carnes expediently reassigned to the infirmary, since he had no medical training. At the same time he detected a rise in his body's temperature, along with a peculiar rising sensation in his abdominal area that he was unable to quantify. Anxiety – Proxima was sure that was what he was feeling at the entire exchange. Derisive Carnes might be, but he never openly flaunted authority.

"Now the news isn't all bad, if everyone would just sit tight long enough to hear it." Scott replaced the images of the object with a schematic of the _Galileo._ The area where the object had collided became highlighted.

"As you can see, the damage isn't anywhere near as bad as it could have been. Inner hull damage is nominal, emergency bulkheads are all in place. Engines, life support, communications, navigational scanners are all fully functional, and the outer hull damage is limited to that area."

"In other words, what we have is a flesh wound," said Crease.

"Exactly. Haddock says the collision only caused a minor deviation in our course. Granted it wouldn't be safe to make any course or speed adjustments, but we're currently traveling at ninety-eight percent of our original velocity. We've no need to slow down."

There was a general sigh of relief throughout the room. "Just when I thought it was going to be a hard day at the office," Carnes remarked. "Hey Yun, is it too late to take back any of the things I said?"

Yun looked at Carnes for a moment, and offered a small smile. "I might be convinced."

Proxima then realized why the crew was so agitated. They were all contemplating how long this incident would delay their return home. At worst their return would be delayed by a few weeks. He felt some of his own anxiety fade, but he didn't share the rest of the crew's enthusiasm. From the Captain and Exec's demeanor, he suspected they didn't share the crew's enthusiasm either.

"Excuse me, Captain will you display the whisker camera view again?" Scott did so and Proxima studied the image. Most recorded interstellar collisions involved objects no larger than a cubic meter. Despite the limited picture quality, Proxima could tell that the object was much larger than that. The fact that their course and speed was affected at all told Proxima that the object must also have a great mass… yet the fact that the _Galileo_ had only sustained minor damage did not compute.

"What are you thinking Proxima?" asked Yun.

"Though the picture quality is limited, our damage pattern is not consistent with incidents previously recorded, or the object's apparent size and mass," Proxima related. "Also the object appears to be embedded at an almost perfect right angle to our hull. This is highly improbable."

"So what are you saying? We're alive and not supposed to be?" Wallace rolled his eyes. "Trust an android to rain on our parade."

"I'm afraid he's right," said Hagen, her face a mask of grimness. "That brings us to the bad news. Haddock says he believes that this collision is _not_ an accident."

Wallace blinked. "I'm positive I didn't hear that right."

"You heard it right Wallace. If that thing was just floating through space, the impact would have crushed this ship like a beer can. The only way it could have hit us and only dented our fenders is if it was traveling through space at velocities matching or close to matching ours. Based on the impact pattern, the probable trajectory of the object was a collision course."

Worried whispers rustled throughout the room. Proxima's anxiety was back up, even more so than before. "What are you saying?" Yun asked, blood draining from her face. "That thing's a ship? Are we under attack?"

"Slow down Yun," urged Scott. "We don't have enough information at this point to say one way or the other. If we're under attack, they obviously didn't mean to destroy the ship or we'd already be dead. But if they're planning to send a boarding party, they'd have done so already. Haddock says he engaged the emergency bulkheads almost immediately after the collision, and there's been no sign of -"

"_Almost?_" Wallace was incredulous. "How quickly is almost? Almost quickly enough for them to send armed mercenaries through the rupture? Almost quick enough for them to plant explosives in our hull? Or maybe just quick enough for them to spraypaint obscene graffiti on our hull and then take off?"

Carnes chuckled at that. Yun glared at Wallace, her lower jaw tensed.

"Cool it Wallace," Scott drawled. "Like Haddock said, there's been no sign of forced entry anywhere in that section. He's also been closely monitoring the security cameras in the sealed-off section that are still active, no sign of any kind of activity. No thermal signals, no sign of movement, no radio chatter, nothing. To answer your question, there was a twenty-second delay between collision and sealing. Not long enough for anyone to get on board."

Ever since Hagen's pronouncement, Proxima had been running various simulations to determine who might be responsible for the collision, but this new bit of data negated his simulations.

"You're sure there's been no sign of intruders anywhere else on the ship?" asked an uneasy Yun.

"No, Haddock already ran a full sweep of the ship."

Proxima interrupted his simulation to note that detail. A complete intruder detection sweep was certainly a logical precaution, but Haddock wasn't programmed that way. Under these circumstances he should have concentrated his sweep on affected areas of the ship.

"Haddock says quite a bit doesn't he? Does he have any idea who 'they' might be?" Carnes asked.

Hagen and Scott exchanged a wordless look for a moment. "No he doesn't." Hagen said tentatively.

"No? What do you mean _no_? He couldn't even come up with an educated guess?"

Hagen shook her head, but Carnes persisted.

"Come on, these AI's are probability junkies. Haddock had to at least come up with something."

Again the Captain and Exec exchanged that same wordless look. Carnes, for the first time looking unsure of himself, glanced at Wallace. He returned the glance, and then looked back at Hagen and Scott.

"Captain," Wallace asked tentatively, "is there something you're not telling us?"

Scott and Hagen were silent, apparently long enough to cause the crew discomfort. Carnes had fallen silent, something he almost never did. Yun shifted her weight several times in her chair. Proxima himself wondered why their answer was not immediately forthcoming. He glanced at Crease, raising his synthetic eyebrows to give a questioning look. He raised and lowered his shoulders briefly before returning his gaze back to Scott. Not knowing what to make of that, Proxima attempted another simulation.

Finally Scott answered. "Haddock came up with several guesses, but his probability numbers weren't consistent. He can't seem to make up his mind."

"What?" Carnes shook his head skeptically. "I've seen AI's display ignorance before, but confusion?" He turned to Proxima. "Do you have any ideas?" For once his tone wasn't derisive.

Proxima's simulation had yielded results several seconds before Carnes asked, but he was unsure of what to tell the crew. Based on the lack of intrusion and the remoteness of the _Galileo's_ present location, the probability of terrorism or piracy was negligible. Space pirates were sometimes known to latch onto the hulls of capital starships, but not during hyperspace. To the best of Proxima's knowledge, pirates did not possess hyperspace-capable craft. There were factions in the United Earth Government who possessed the means and the motive to carry out an attack on Weyland-Yutani property, but current circumstances didn't fit their profile. The remaining answer yielded by his simulation was statistically unlikely, not to mention unprecedented.

Suddenly Proxima realized that Haddock must have told Scott and Hagen the same hypothesis he was contemplating. It was likely the same reason for his increased vigilance. Why was the Captain and Exec so reticent when pressed on the issue?

Perhaps they thought Haddock was malfunctioning. If so, they might think Proxima was also malfunctioning and he would lose credibility among them. If his hypothesis was true - however unlikely it might be - his role as science officer would be critical.

"Hello Proxima?" Carnes waved his hand impatiently, as if he were signaling for Proxima's attention from a great distance. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Negative," Proxima answered without pause, "this situation does not compute."

Proxima suddenly felt disoriented. Had he just told a lie? Then he felt dizziness and an inexplicable throbbing sensation, followed by a brief electrical signal feedback in his main data bus. As if there was some data that his brain was trying to access and failing. The strange sensations passed momentarily.

"We're wasting time," Hagen declared harshly. "What we need is answers, not conjecture."

Illogical. Androids weren't programmed to lie; he was simply exercising his judgment by omitting unreliable data. Shortly before his assignment to the _Galileo_, a diagnostic chip had been attached to his brain; he was likely experiencing an after-effect. But it was unusual for him to be experiencing the effect now. Signal errors weren't unusual or dangerous, but they were supposed to be random.

"No, that can wait," Scott interjected. "Our immediate priority is to get that thing out of the ship's hull. Carnes, Wallace, that's your job, I don't care how you do it. Store it in the shuttle bay when you're done, then see to repairing the rupture. Yun, they'll need plenty of room to store the object, so if there's any equipment or vehicles in the bay that can be moved, store them in cargo bay 2."

"I'll give you a hand Yun," Crease volunteered.

"No doctor, I need you to set up a bio-containment area in the shuttle bay for the object."

Crease raised his eyebrows. "Are we expecting any kind of trouble here?"

"It's standard procedure," Scott said after a brief pause. It did not go unnoticed by Proxima.

"Ouch," Carnes exclaimed and gestured at Yun, "so much for trying to get her all alone to yourself, eh Doc?"

Crease gave him another withering look and ignored the remark. Evidently Carnes's attitude was back to its normal parameters.

"Can't you ever be serious?" asked Yun with irritation.

"I tried that once, only everyone laughed."

"Knock it off you two," Scott retorted. "Proxima, your task is to find out exactly what we're dealing with here. Penetrate the object if you have to once it's on board. Anyone have any questions?"

Proxima spoke up "Sir, if I penetrate the object, I may be exposing myself and the crew to unknown contamination." It was possible that there was a simple explanation for the object, but neither the Captain nor Haddock seemed convinced. Either way it would be prudent to, as the humans expressed it, err on the side of caution.

"The object will be kept under quarantine. Give yourself a thorough decontamination when you're done. Anything else?"

"What about weapons?" asked Wallace. "Shouldn't we be carrying around some, just in case we have intruders?"

"They're in mothballs right now," said Hagen. "I'll prep them while the rest of you get to work."

"Just what kind of weapons do we have?" asked Yun.

"Apart from the automated sentry gun on the bridge, we've got shock batons, small arms, a couple incinerators, nothing to write home about," she said grimly. "Let's just hope we don't have to use them - if they even work properly."

"If I'd wanted this much excitement I would have joined the damn Colonial Marine Corps," Yun complained.

"Does anyone else have any questions?" Scott interrupted sharply. When none were forthcoming, he gave a dismissive gesture. "Alright people, let's move like we got a purpose."

The crew began to disperse. Proxima paused to consider running a second self-diagnostic, but Yun interrupted him.

"Proxima, you didn't have to stick up for me back there, I can handle Carnes. Still though, I appreciate it. Thanks." She smiled at him.

This shift in logic surprised Proxima. For a brief moment he considered reminding her that he was merely stating facts, but reconsidered.

"You're welcome," he answered, after a brief pause to search his social protocols for the appropriate response. Dismissing his earlier symptoms as happenstance, he left the conference room.


	3. Does not Compute

**Chapter 3**

**Does Not Compute**

The_ Galileo_ was well over one kilometer in length and one-third that distance in width and height. Most of that space was dedicated to the ship's cargo bays and its ore processing and refining facilities. The equipment was mostly automated, leaving the crew only three decks designed for them to roam about freely. Deck 1 was located at the top of the ship, comprising the hypersleep facility, crew's quarters, the infirmary, the conference room, and the main bridge. Proxima's duty station would normally be at a science lab or observation deck, but the _Galileo_ was not a science vessel. He followed Yun and Scott to the main bridge. Everyone else headed to the lower decks.

Like most of the ship, the main bridge was cramped, well lit, bleak and impersonal. The front and sides were lined with windows, but they only showed a view of closed bulkheads. During hyperspace they were closed for safety reasons. The robotic sentry gun turret loomed above the entrance, its targeting camera activating briefly to track Proxima and the Captain as they entered. Scott made his way to the command console in the centre of the bridge. Yun took the helm console and donned a headset. Proxima also put on a headset before sitting at the sensor control console next to her. Some models of androids were equipped with internal radio transmitter/receivers, but the 128-2 series didn't have that feature.

His first step was to outfit an exogeology probe with a complete scientific imaging array. The Galileo didn't have a complete array on board, but the probe probably wouldn't be able to support it all anyway. Designing the necessary modifications was simple enough, only requiring a few minutes of Proxima's time. Applying his designs would be done by the maintenance droids on deck 2. Upon inputting his instructions to the computer, a live video feed from one of the cargo lifters in the shuttle bay appeared on his display. The lifter took a few minutes to perform a self diagnostic and activation routine, and then sluggishly moved itself across the roof towards a parked probe. In the feed Proxima noticed another lifter moving towards a parked ore hauler, under Yun's direction.

"Hey Proxima, let me know which probe you're planning to use, so I don't move it to the cargo bay with the rest of this junk," said Yun.

Proxima checked the lifter's display and recited the code listed under "**Transponder ID**". For the robots' sake, all the machines and equipment had an ID code. During the mining operation, the machines broadcast their codes via radio so they wouldn't get lost in space.

"Thanks," she said. "Too bad we've got to keep the bulkheads shut, I wouldn't mind having a bridge with a view," she added while she worked.

Proxima looked at her curiously. She knew perfectly well that even if it was safe to open the bulkheads during hyperspace, there would be nothing to see this far out. Then it occurred to him that she was making what Dr. Crease referred to as "small talk"; inconsequential conversation that some humans opted for over a silent environment. Not knowing how to respond, he simply nodded and went back to work.

While Proxima supervised the droids, Yun periodically engaged him with additional conversation. That intrigued him; he had worked closely with her during the initial stages of the mining operation, but all of their conversation had been in a professional context. The droids only needed occasional prompting from him, so he decided to attempt this small talk. He wasn't completely inexperienced, having conversed with Dr. Crease before. He seemed to be performing it well, until she asked him if he preferred to have a view of space in the bridge. Before he could even consider a response, they were interrupted by Lt. Hagen on their headsets.

"Look alive people, weapons are ready. All personnel report to the weapons locker."

Yun jumped out of her seat. "It's about time," she said. "What about you Proxima, are you joining us?"

Proxima shook his head. "My human life preservation directive forbids me-"

"Machines don't carry weapons," Scott interrupted sharply. "Proxima, you stay here and monitor the droids. Yun, with me."

Yun frowned at the Captain, but he was already gone. She glanced at Proxima ruefully. "Try not to run into any intruders while we're gone," she remarked before leaving the bridge.

Again Proxima was at a loss. Unable to fathom her meaning, he returned to work.

x x x x x

"Is that the best you can do?" demanded Wallace.

The weapons locker was located in a smaller maintenance facility just outside engineering on deck 2. The _Galileo's_ entire arsenal of firearms was strewn about a greasy workbench – which really didn't amount to much. There were tranquilizer guns, nine-millimeter pistols, and only one flamethrower.

"I'm afraid that's it," said Lt. Hagen. "The other incinerator's damaged, I can't repair it."

"Hold it, hold it," Carnes interrupted, noticing the rifle she had hanging from her shoulders by a harness. It was sleek and compact, but looked very heavy. A tactical display module was also mounted on the stock. Unlike the rest of the weapons strewn about the table, her rifle looked well maintained and very modern.

"What the hell is that?"

Hagen placed a protective hand on her weapon. "This is an M35-D laser rifle. Don't worry it's designed for combat on starships. The discharge won't rupture the hull."

Carnes whistled in awe. "Since when did we start getting supplied with top of the line military hardware?"

A smirk touched the corners of Hagen's mouth. "We didn't. This is a personal souvenir of mine."

Wallace didn't look impressed. "Begging your pardon sirs, but how come you two get to carry around the heavy arms while we're all alone down here with pistols?"

"What's the matter Wallace? Need someone to hold your hand?" Yun asked derisively.

"Hey, easy for you to say Yun, you're all tucked in nice and tight on the bridge with a fucking sentry gun covering your ass," Wallace shot back. He turned to Hagen. "Let me have that rifle, you should have nothing to worry about on the bridge."

Hagen shook her head. "Sorry Wallace, you haven't got the training."

"Come on, that's bullshit. How much training does it take to point at a hostile and pull the trigger?"

"Wrong Wallace," she said sternly, "the only thing more dangerous than a loaded rifle is an operator who doesn't know how to use it." Wallace was silent, but he did not look pleased.

"If you're that worried about your safety Wallace, you can have this." Scott passed the flamethrower to him. Wallace still didn't look terribly pleased, but he said nothing more. Scott and Yun took pistols. Dr. Crease took a tranq gun. Carnes pocketed a pistol and an extra clip, then after a moment's consideration took a shock baton and hung it over his belt.

"Stocking up for world war three?" Crease quipped.

Carnes ignored the comment, but gestured at his gun. "Is that all the heat you're packing? What if it's not enough?"

The doctor shrugged as if it were of no consequence. "Then I guess I'm out of luck. I took an oath remember?"

"Alright people," Scott announced, "let's remember there's still no sign of intrusion anywhere on the ship, so let's try not to go off half-cocked and shoot each other in the foot okay? The paperwork's a bitch." Everyone chuckled at that.

"Dismissed."

x x x x x

Proxima's modified sensor probe resembled a four-legged metallic spider. It was not equipped with thrusters for flying. Its magnetic legs were designed for spacewalking. Finding the impact site proved somewhat difficult, as he had to navigate the probe in near-complete darkness. After several wrong turns, some undetectable force began to interfere with the probe's systems. The unresolved interference grew stronger the closer it got to the site, but the probe held.

Once the machine was in position, he spent the next hour attempting every scanning technique he knew of. The object barely responded to light, did not respond at all to radio signals, even ionizing radiation had no effect. A distorted optical profile was all Proxima was able to discern. The picture was of better quality than the whisker cameras could provide, but not by much. The object appeared to be cone-shaped. The sharper end was apparently embedded in the hull, the other end was spherical. Its overall size was equivalent to an ore hauler. There were no identifying markings, no sign of any form of propulsion system or weapons, in fact no external structures of any kind.

Proxima was just about to hazard moving the probe closer, when Captain Scott informed him that Wallace and Carnes were ready to begin extracting the object, and ordered him to move his equipment to a safe distance. From the clearly audible chatter in his headset, Wallace and Carnes had chosen to use one of the "flatbeds" - spacecraft designed to grapple onto and remove large obstacles. Operations of this nature conducted during hyperspace were tricky, but not particularly dangerous. Nevertheless, the flatbed would be controlled by remote.

In the meantime, Proxima accessed the lateral sensor array's logs for the _Galileo's_ entire return trip, from the moment they departed the Tau Ceti system to the collision. Operating on Haddock's belief that the collision was deliberate, Proxima checked the entire log for signs that they were being followed, to no avail. He expanded his search to include before their departure, without any results. He leaned back in his chair, attempting to organize his thoughts.

"No luck?" asked Yun. Proxima shook his head. Captain Scott came over and checked his findings.

"Come on Proxima, is that all you've got?" he demanded in a belligerent tone. "You're supposed to be a science officer, what do you think you're here for?"

Proxima suddenly found it difficult to maintain his professional demeanor. "The object does not respond in any way to our imaging…" he tried to explain.

"Can you tell if that's by design? Are they deliberately jamming our scanners? Or don't you know that either?"

Proxima shook his head helplessly. The Captain glared at him for an uncomfortable moment before speaking again.

"Get down to deck three and give Crease a hand with that quarantine facility then." Seeing little point in remaining, Proxima nodded.

"Come on, move!" Scott barked harshly, startling Yun. Quickly as possible Proxima darted out of the bridge.

The Captain noticed Yun was scowling. "Is there a problem?"

"You tell me." The navigator gestured at Proxima's empty workstation. "Was all that really necessary?"

"Just do your job," Scott said dismissively and returned to his chair.

"Yes sir," Yun grumbled under her breath.

x x x x x

The shuttle bay was very large, its ceiling lined with rails for cargo lifters. It consisted of three sections divided by airlocks. The first was the flight control room, which was typically kept pressurized. The second was the hangar bay. The third section was the space-facing launch platform, at one end of the bay. The huge cargo bay doors were at the other end.

By now Yun had finished moving all the parked spacecraft from the hangar bay. A large section along one of the walls had been cordoned off with safety pylons and yellow tape. Within, several droids were erecting a box-shaped enclosure of metal scaffolding and hard plastic. A human-sized alcove had been built into the finished wall of the enclosure – a makeshift decontamination facility. Proxima found Dr. Crease nearby, working from a portable terminal.

"Hi Proxima. What brings you down here?" he asked. "I thought you were stationed on the bridge."

"My efforts were unproductive," Proxima replied. "The Captain sent me to assist you."

"Did he now." He sounded skeptical.

"Doctor?"

"Nevermind. You might as well prep the hazard suits in case they're needed."

"Yes doctor."

They worked in relative silence for a few minutes before Proxima decided to ask a question. Crease was really the only crewmember who had any patience for Proxima's social inexperience.

"During the briefing, you asked Mr. Carnes if he wanted to observe the speed at which you could assign him to the infirmary. What did you mean by that?"

Crease looked at him oddly. "Observe the speed, assign to the… what are you talking about?" Then his expression changed. "Oh, that. Well I wasn't talking about reassignments."

"What did you mean?"

"I was talking about," he paused, his expression one Proxima didn't recognize. "I was threatening to hurt him. But I wasn't actually going to do it, even if he was being a jackass."

Proxima silently assimilated that. Crease was a doctor, sworn to do no harm. He carried a non-lethal weapon, yet he was threatening to use violence?

"Look we all got a little hot under the collar back there," he added, as if hearing Proxima's train of thought. "I'm sure we all said things we didn't really mean."

"Hot under the collar? You mean angry?"

"That's right."

"Because you thought your return to Earth would be delayed?"

"Exactly."

Proxima nodded. His original hypothesis about the crew's erratic behavior during the briefing was correct, but some doubt still lingered. For humans, superfluous statements seemed applicable to expressions of both disdain and anger. He wondered how many other emotional contexts were expressed in that fashion.

"I believe the exchange also left me feeling hot under the collar," Proxima mused.

Crease's bushy eyebrows went up. "Really? I'd read the 128-2 series had emotional capacity, but I didn't really believe it. How many emotions have you felt since your activation?"

"I do not know. These emotions are difficult to isolate and quantify. How do humans understand them?"

"Well, it's difficult to explain," he began, when they were interrupted by their headsets.

"Shuttle bay, this is Scott. Doctor, what's your status?"

"I'd say in another two minutes or so, the containment facility will be finished. Once the object's inside, give another five minutes for the droids to seal it in."

"Captain," Proxima spoke up, "I recommend we decompress the hangar bay until the object is sealed off. Vacuum could limit any possibility of contamination."

Considering the way Scott had addressed him on the bridge, Proxima wasn't sure if his recommendation would be taken seriously.

"Affirmative," Scott answered, surprising Proxima. "Report in as soon as the droids are finished."

"Say, are you really going to go into that thing?" Crease asked.

"Those were my orders." Proxima suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Doctor, I was wondering if…"

"I could cover you while you do your sweep," he answered, finishing Proxima's sentence. "Don't worry, I'll be there."

Proxima felt his discomfort fade. "Thank you doctor."

x x x x x

For the most part, Haddock became dormant once the crew had awakened. His authority was limited to routine ship functions; he could make only minor decisions without prompting the crew. He still felt the ship as his own body, but the areas reserved for the crew became numb to him. He yearned for the freedom of the crew's return to hypersleep.

On this occasion, Haddock felt additional numbness from the collision damage. Until the crew repaired it, that area would remain numb to him. It did not concern him though – his thoughts were preoccupied with the object. It intrigued him; would it be an artificial intelligence like himself or the android Proxima? Would it be autonomous, or was it a steward for biological entities like the humans?

At the same time, something about the object disturbed Haddock. Since he had no proof of the object's true origin, continued speculation would be an inefficient use of his system resources. Nevertheless, Haddock found that the object was in his thoughts with an improbably high frequency. It was the same sensation he felt concerning Proxima. Perhaps he and the object had similar properties.

Haddock initially suspected he might be infected with a virus. But aside from a negligible drain in his random access memory, none of his vital processes were affected. He was not accustomed to dealing with ambiguity, and dismissed his unease as a minor memory fluctuation.


	4. Threshold of Fear

**Chapter 4  
Threshold of Fear**

Proxima and Crease waited in the flight control room while Wallace and Carnes worked. Extracting the object proved relatively simple, but moving it was not. Aside from the heavily shielded flatbed, every piece of robotic equipment they used suffered numerous difficulties. Proxima related his difficulty with the probe, and theorized that the object might be broadcasting electromagnetic or radio frequency interference.

"You know Proxima, that's really very interesting but it doesn't get us anywhere," Wallace grumbled over the radio.

After many attempts and much use of colourful language, they finally managed to get the object onto the launch platform without any serious problems. Once inside, conventional loaders had to be used, because the magnetic cargo lifters proved ineffective. Evidently the object had weak magnetic properties. Perhaps it wasn't built using metal.

"Holy Moses," Yun exclaimed. "What kind of ship isn't made of metal?"

"Maybe it has some kind of non-metallic hull casing," Carnes suggested. "Plastic or – _goddamnit!_"

"What is it?" Hagen asked urgently.

"Stupid fuckin' loader's stalled again! Has every droid on this ship gone haywire?"

"Cool off Carnes," Scott urged. "And let's try to keep the speculation to a minimum here."

The whole time the object was being moved, Proxima and Crease scanned the depressurized hangar bay for radioactive, biohazardous, or corrosive elements. They detected nothing, but the hangar's scanner array was no more reliable than the droids. Once the object was parked inside the containment area, its effect on the droids seemed to lessen. Proxima and Crease observed the droids complete their job without much difficulty.

"Object is secure," Crease reported. "Re-pressurizing the hangar… now." With a hiss, gas rushed back into the hangar.

"Pressurization at one-hundred percent. Containment appears to be holding, still no sign of contamination… okay Captain we're ready down here."

"Stand by doctor, I'm coming down there," said Hagen.

"Excuse me Lieutenant, is that such a good idea?" asked the doctor while he and Proxima donned EVAC (Environmental/Vacuum/Contamination) suits. "If there's something dangerous down here -"

"Worried about my safety Doc?" she asked coyly. "I'm touched. Actually if there is something dangerous you'll need my gun-arm."

"I'd better come along too," said Wallace.

"Negative Wallace, stay where you are," ordered Scott.

Once Proxima, Crease, and Hagen were suited up, they entered the hangar. The plastic used in the containment facility was not transparent, so all they saw of the object was a dark shape. Hagen was the first to enter with her assault rifle drawn and ready. Despite the bulky suit, she swiftly scuttled across the hangar floor. She circled the containment area like a vulture circling a fresh carcass, before barking out "_Clear!_"

Proxima entered next with a scanner strapped to his left arm, a sample container, and a lamp attached to his shoulder. Doctor Crease was last to enter. He had his tranq gun ready, and he imitated Hagen's crouched posture.

"Alright," said Crease grimly, "let's get to work." He attached a camera to Proxima's helmet and he started towards the entrance to the enclosure.

"Hold it," Hagen interrupted. "I'm the one with the gun remember? I'm going in first."

"Negative Hagen, only Proxima goes in. Nobody else violates quarantine."

"Captain!" Hagen was aghast. "I'm already suited, if there's something dangerous in there he shouldn't…" she paused abruptly, and then seemed to collect herself. "I should be on-site sir."

"If there's something dangerous in there, better to risk the android than your safety."

"Captain –"

"Stay where you are Hagen, those are my orders." Scott intoned harshly.

Hagen pursed her lips tightly before answering "Fine." She glanced reluctantly at Proxima.

"Be careful Proxima," she said, almost in a whisper.

"Same here," the doctor added.

Proxima nodded and entered the decontamination booth. A moment later the inner door opened. The instant it did Proxima felt disoriented, as electrical paths in his body suddenly became erratic. His visual resolution became distorted, his motor control became tenuous. His legs sagged and he almost dropped to his knees.

"Hey Proxima - what the hell is going on?" Hagen's voice came over Proxima's radio, heavily obscured by static. "The camera feed went dead! I can't see anything!"

Slowly Proxima began to recover. Fortunately for him, his body was more heavily shielded from interference than an average droid.

"I am functional," Proxima answered slowly.

"You scared the shit out of us Proxima," said Crease. "But I still can't see anything. What are you seeing?"

"The object is coloured dark grey," he reported. "I am moving closer now."

With each step he took, Proxima became increasingly anxious. The object's surface was completely undifferentiated, but not smooth. The surface had none of the luster one would expect from a metallic substance, but rather it glistened as if covered in moisture. Gradually Proxima noticed the surface did have a visible feature: a row of sharp fang-shaped striations along its side. They followed no discernable pattern of symmetry. The object had more the appearance of something grown or molded rather than constructed.

"Proxima? What do you see?"

"The object has no visible means of entry," Proxima related. "But… the object's hull..." he trailed off.

"What about it? Report?"

"I am going to take samples of the object's… skin." Proxima said slowly.

"What was that? I didn't get that last part."

Proxima did not reply, having no words to describe the thing that loomed ominously before him. As with the camera, his scanner did not function. His equipment included a small functional laser cutter, which he used to slice a tiny piece of the object's hull. Both it and the hull discoloured slightly.

"Lieutenant Hagen I…" Proxima's voice abruptly failed him. Systems scrambled to compensate.

"Say again what?"

"I request permission to penetrate the object with a laser drill."

"Alright. How are you holding up?"

"I am functional," was all Proxima could say.

Interminable moments later, the quarantine hatch opened revealing a manually operated laser drill. Proxima moved the device into position and set it to a lower intensity. He experimentally probed the underside of the hull. The spot on the hull discoloured slightly, but no other effects were observed. He gradually turned up the intensity until he noticed a reaction. Under the laser, the hull gradually began losing its shape and sagging, as if it was melting candle wax. Proxima increased the intensity again, causing further sagging and discolouration. But instead of liquefying and dropping off, the lump of burned hull began to even out. Proxima stopped the drill and found a dark aperture left where the beam had struck, surrounded by the swollen discoloured lump of hull, like some misshapen doughnut.

Not caring to speculate on the utterly… _alien_ behaviour of the object, Proxima resumed his drilling. He had carved out an inverted L-shaped groove when the hull began to writhe repulsively. He ceased drilling and watched as the swollen hull at the corner of the cavity came loose and peeled away. A roughly triangle-shaped dark entrance remained.

"I have carved open an entrance to the object. There is no visible activity, I am proceeding inside," he reported.

"Acknowledged."

Proxima tentatively gripped the edge of the peeled-off section. Though tactile sense was limited through his gloves, it was rock-hard. The object offered no viable handholds, so he climbed up the peeled section into the entrance. The hull was less than half a meter thick. From the limited light seeping in, he could make out an irregular tube-shaped form by his feet. He stepped forward, reaching for his shoulder lamp.

Suddenly Proxima's foot caught on something. Unable to compensate in time, he stumbled deeper inside.

"Proxima what's going on?"

"I mis-stepped. I am undamaged, but…" He trailed off. Inside the object was pitch black. Though he only had a limited capacity for apprehension and fear, he was certain he had reached his threshold. His eyes weren't equipped for infrared reception, so he quickly fumbled for his lamp and turned it on.

As his photoreceptors adjusted to the light, he became aware of a number of grey-coloured slightly rounded leathery objects, each reaching slightly over knee-height. Overhead there was a collection of thick rib-shaped structures. There were more structures lining the walls… almost like a rib cage. All of the surfaces inside were uneven with lines, grooves, indentations, all of which followed a distinctly organic skeletal pattern. There was a sloping raised surface before him.

Proxima tried to communicate with Crease, but his voice was too heavily obscured by static to understand. Worried, he performed his survey as quickly as possible. His suit's environmental sensors did not function, but from the complete silence of his movements, he deduced the object was completely depressurized.

He climbed up into the centre of the object and was able to get a better perspective. The raised uneven platform he was standing on ran the length of the object's interior. Overhead a thick segmented tube ran parallel to the platform. On either side more of the leathery structures lay nestled beneath the rib cage. They seemed to be connected via a grotesque root-like system of small segmented tubes covering the lower ground. Proxima's foot must have gotten caught on them. The hole he had welded lay between two of the ribs. There was no sign of controls, or anything else consistent with a spacecraft. There was no visible activity of any kind. The interior of the object seemed much smaller than its outside dimensions.

X X X X X

Outside the object, Hagen watched impassively as Crease kept trying to raise Proxima. Finally he gave up.

"Captain we've lost contact with Proxima. If he's not out in five minutes I'm going in after him."

"Negative doctor –"

"You can write me up if you want," he said evenly. "Four minutes, fifty seconds."

"Doctor, need I remind you that your oath doesn't extend to mechanicals?"

A look of wrath passed over Crease's face. He reflexively opened his mouth to snap at the Captain, but stopped himself.

"Four minutes, forty seconds." He turned off his radio and glared at Hagen. "When the time comes, I hope you don't plan to try and stop me."

Hagen didn't answer, her face was expressionless. Crease lingered for a moment to see if she would respond, then went back to his attempts to raise Proxima. Inside the thick gloves of the EVAC suit where no one could see, Hagen was gripping her rifle so tightly her knuckles turned white.

X X X X X

Proxima took samples of the "roots" and the wall material. He examined one of the leathery structures and noticed a thin crease along the top, as if it were meant to contain something. He tried to pry it open but to no avail, and his cutter had only a minor discolouring effect. He then tried to move one of them, but found that it might as well have been welded to the surface. He considered using the laser drill parked outside, then reconsidered. Satisfied (and relieved) that he had collected possible all raw data, he sealed the sample container and tried the radio again.

"This is Proxima, is anyone receiving?"

This time Crease's voice came through, barely audible due to static. "Crease he… Proxima wh… your situa…"

"I have completed my sweep and am coming out. Stand by for decontamination."

"Copy."

Proxima turned to leave, when he thought he heard something. It was at the edge of his audio receptors, a soft snap or hissing sound perhaps. But sound waves couldn't travel in a vacuum. His audio receptors must be malfunctioning now. Nevertheless he checked the area once more. There was still no sign of movement, and there were no other sound disturbances, including from his own movements. Without further delay, he scuttled out through the hole. Without even waiting for his photoreceptors to adjust, he hurried into the decontamination booth and sealed the door.

"Nice of you to join us Proxima. Are you alright?" asked Crease.

"Yes." He answered in monotone.

"So what's the word?" asked Crease.

Proxima gave the only logical answer he could. "The object is not of human origin."

Hagen showed no sign of surprise. Crease practically climbed into the radio. _"WHAT!"_

X X X X X

Inside the object, one of the leathery structures began to discolour. Its surface began to glisten, and the top curled open, like the petals of some leathery flower.

X X X X X

**Author's Notes:**

**One little detail I forgot when I wrote the artifact survey scene: sound doesn't travel in a vacuum. I've edited the scene to reflect that.**

**-MA**


	5. Company Orders

**Chapter 5  
Company Orders**

Proxima described the alien artifact to Dr. Crease while inside the decontamination booth. Both Hagen and Crease remained silent until he was finished. There was a long pause before he got any response.

"Begging your pardon Proxima, but I didn't know the 128-2 series was programmed with a sense of humor." Despite Dr. Crease's words, his tone was definitely not humorous.

"I do not believe it would be appropriate to express humor under these circumstances," Proxima responded with equal severity.

"Are you serious? That thing's… an alien ship?"

"I cannot speculate as to the purpose of the artifact, but it is not a naturally occurring stellar phenomenon, and I do not believe any human means could have possibly been responsible for its… creation."

There was another long pause. "Proxima," Crease said slowly, "don't take this the wrong way, but that thing scrambled every piece of electronic equipment it got close to. Are you sure you're not… malfunctioning?"

Crease's words disturbed Proxima. Could it be possible? His scanner had not been functioning at the time, and he had experienced difficulties before entering the artifact. Suddenly he realized that he had made a mistake. He should have performed a self-diagnostic before his survey. It was entirely possible that all of his observations were flawed. If the doctor was skeptical, how would the rest of the crew react?

Quickly as possible Proxima ran a cursory self-diagnostic. His core memory logged a lengthy list of electrical signal errors prior to entering the object, and a few others during the survey. Sure enough, one of those errors affected his audio receptors. None of those problems were serious, and none of his higher brain functions were affected.

"Only my motor control system was affected doctor. My higher functions were not."

"I assume you recovered samples?" Hagen's manner was completely professional.

"Affirmative."

"Good," said Crease gamely, "this I've got to see for myself."

"I'd better go inform the Captain of this. Doc, Proxima, you detect any sign of activity from that thing - _anything at all_ - give me or Scott the heads-up immediately. If there's the slightest sign of a quarantine breach, I want you both to evacuate and seal off the shuttle bay."

"Excuse me Lieutenant…" Crease started.

"I don't give a rat's ass about the decontam protocol! If something goes wrong, you two get the hell out of here _immediately!_ Is that clear?"

Hagen's outburst startled Proxima. Up until now she had been completely calm and businesslike about this entire operation. Why was she suddenly so volatile?

"Yes ma'am," Crease said wanly, "but why tell Scott in person? Why don't you just use the radio?"

"I'll be back in two minutes, so stay frosty." Ignoring Crease's question, she jogged out of the shuttle bay.

"What's with her?" Crease wondered aloud. "Nevermind. Proxima, you should be done in twenty minutes or so."

"Affirmative."

"Well, have I mentioned I'm really looking forward to getting your samples under a scope?"

There was an awkward silence. Proxima wasn't sure if Dr. Crease believed him. He found that he lacked the inclination to talk with him, as long as he harboured doubt. The doctor did not press him. Lt. Hagen arrived a few minutes later, but she had little to say. Lacking anything better to do, he found himself thinking about the artifact, recursing his recent memory as if he was trapped in a feedback loop. The decontamination procedure passed without incident, while Proxima's thoughts failed to reach any conclusion.

"Are those the samples you recovered?" Dr. Crease asked, glancing at his sample container. Proxima nodded.

Crease scrutinized the samples with a frown. "Something wrong Doc?" Hagen asked.

"Far be it for me to jump to conclusions, but those sure as hell don't look like something you'd pry off the hull of a starship."

"I'm no scientist, but I'd have to agree," Hagen added.

Dr. Crease set the container on the floor and strapped a scanner to his forearm. A thin curtain of light shined from the device. He briefly ran the scanner through a calibration routine and then ran the light over the samples a few times.

"So far no sign of radioactivity, no response to electromagnetics. Whatever it is, it doesn't appear to be metallic," Crease related. "The sample container is intact, so it seems safe in there."

"Excuse me doctor, may I?" Proxima approached with his own arm-scanner ready. This time instead of a thin curtain of light, Proxima's scanner shined in a radial pattern, like a lamp.

"Proxima what are you doing? That's not the right setting."

Proxima ignored the doctor and adjusted his settings. The light subtly changed in colour, brightness, and intensity. Suddenly, out of the corner of his photoreceptors he noticed something.

"_Stop!_" Hagen barked, seeing the same thing. Dr. Crease's eyes went wide.

Under the light, a field of tiny bright specks became visible. The field encompassed most of the sample container, and was most intense around the samples.

"Hey Doc," Hagen demanded, "I thought you said those things weren't radioactive?"

"I did!" he protested. "Proxima what the hell are your settings?"

Proxima showed Crease his scanner readout. He scrutinized the display for less than a half-minute before responding.

"I can definitely tell you it's not radioactivity. Ionizing radiation can't possibly become visible on this wavelength." His assertion was firm, but during his half-minute study, the frown lines in his forehead had deepened further.

"So what are we looking at?" Hagen asked.

This time Dr. Crease's reply lacked its previous assuredness. "It looks like some form of particulate matter."

"You mean like sand or dust?"

Dr. Crease didn't answer, his eyes fixed on Proxima's scanner display.

Hagen turned to Proxima, a slight frown touching her brow. He responded hesitantly, "Negative, scan results are not consistent with sand or any known form of spatial dust."

If Dr. Crease was offended that Proxima answered a question directed at him, he showed no sign. In fact he showed no reaction at all.

"Hey Doc!" Hagen snapped. "Are you with us? What's your take? What the hell are we looking at?"

Dr. Crease finally looked up from the display. All the blood had drained from his face. "I have no idea," he said slowly, "but it sure as hell isn't anything I've ever seen."

"So you concur with Proxima then?"

Dr. Crease opened his mouth to answer, but stopped, appearing to reconsider. "First, let me make sure this isn't another equipment malfunction. Proxima, step back."

Proxima complied and Dr. Crease rescanned the samples. No one appeared surprised when his scanner yielded the same results.

"I concur with Proxima."

Proxima interrupted. "Excuse me Doctor, I recommend we take these samples to the infirmary for further analysis." Oddly enough, Proxima found he was less concerned with the analysis than he was with getting off the flight deck, away from the object.

Evidently Dr. Crease felt the same way. "At your earliest convenience," he said. "Sorry I doubted you."

It occurred to Proxima that Dr. Crease had every logical reason to doubt him, but he simply nodded. The Exec lingered behind them.

"Captain Scott, Proxima and the Doc confirm it," she said quietly, "looks like Haddock was right."

X X X X X

Yun's face was as pale as the briefing room walls. Scott and Hagen were as impassive as statues. Wallace's demeanor was dark with thinly veiled anger.

"Looks like Proxima's not the only droid who's gone haywire, eh?" Carnes remarked with a smirk. This time no one laughed or even smiled. His smirk faded rapidly in the uncomfortable silence.

"You knew, didn't you?" demanded Wallace.

Captain Scott shook his head. "All we knew was Haddock suspected the thing wasn't… one of ours. Not human, alien, whatever. We weren't sure if it was for real or not."

"I don't like operating in the dark," Wallace growled. "So is there anything else you haven't told us? Oh nevermind, it's all need-to-know stuff so I shouldn't ask."

"Check that attitude at the door Wallace," Scott warned.

"You want to come over here and make me _Captain_? You deceived us, put us all at risk -"

"Shut up!" Hagen shouted against his rising tone.

"- and you want me to mind my manners!"

"**Shut up!**" Wallace fell silent.

"Better send her flowers Wallace," Scott said sternly, "you were about to go on report."

Wallace was unfazed. "Go right ahead, maybe I'll write one of my own. That is assuming we live long enough to file them."

"Don't get your air hose in a twist, we took every possible precaution."

The chief engineer wasn't out of steam yet. "Like that means a damn! This is a fucking mining freighter! We're not set up for something like this!"

Hagen silenced him with a frosty look. "Be angry at us later Wallace. What's important is what we do now."

"If you're that worried about it," Scott added, "you're welcome to add extra layers of containment to the object for the trip home."

"Fine, whatever." It wasn't until after Wallace said the words that he stiffened in realization.

"Wait a minute," Yun spoke slowly, "wait a minute… what do you mean 'for the trip home'?"

She was interrupted by the arrival of Dr. Crease and Proxima. "Just the people I wanted to see," Scott remarked grimly. "Have you completed your analysis?"

"Yes sir," Dr. Crease said wanly, "and we'd all better be sitting down for this. That way you'll have some breathing room for when you hit the roof."

X X X X X

Proxima expected the rest of the crew to be skeptical, considering Dr. Crease's initial reaction. So he was surprised to find out that the rest of the crew had already been informed of the artifact's nature, before he and Crease had conclusive evidence. They all appeared very unsettled by the news.

All except one.

"So I hear you two have come up with some pretty spooky ideas. Maybe you've both gotten space-sick? Maybe you ought to consider checking yourselves into the loony bin for the trip home?" Carnes mocked.

Proxima had no idea what a loony bin was, but he knew all too well when Carnes was being derisive. He looked at Carnes right in the eye. "Mr. Carnes, if you have no interest in our report, you are welcome to leave the room."

Carnes was scandalized beyond words to hear him say that. Proxima was no less surprised. Normally Carnes' tirades left him feeling anxious and uneasy, but this time he felt… what was this feeling? Anger? Or something related? Whatever it was, he'd felt it briefly at Dr. Crease's skepticism.

Annoyance. Proxima put word to this new emotion and was sure of it, even though he had no supporting evidence. Carnes' attitude had suddenly transformed into a petulant inconvenience. When did this happen?

"Hey, hey, he - _it_ can't talk to me like that!" Carnes rose to his feet, protesting.

"Sit down mister!" Dr. Crease cut him off sharply.

Carnes might have been flustered at Proxima, but now he was angry. "Don't you start too Doc," he warned.

"**Carnes, Proxima, Crease!**" Hagen shouted their names one by one, then added quietly: "Zip it."

"My, but what a testy group of people we have here today," said the Captain. "If you gentlemen can possibly refrain from killing each other, please sit down."

Proxima started with his description of the alien object. As before, everyone including Carnes was silent until he finished.

"Believe me guys, he hasn't lost it," said Dr. Crease before anyone could say anything. "I saw the samples. Definitely not from our neck of space." Then he launched into his report of their preliminary findings with their arm-scanners. Proxima used the display console to show everyone visual records of the samples, and the bright flecks that became visible.

"Not radioactive, not dust," Wallace mused. "So what does that leave?"

"The size of the particles is on the same level as…" Dr. Crease paused. Proxima knew what was coming, and it would be difficult for everyone to assimilate.

"…well, human beings, animals, and plants shed tiny particles of skin constantly. Too small to see, unless they're clumped together. Particulate from the samples is approximately the same size as our own shed skin cells."

"So what are you saying?" asked Scott.

Proxima answered, "Both the particles and the samples have a highly complex internal structure. Very possibly… organic."

Carnes stiffened. "_Organic_! That thing's alive?"

"The samples show all the characteristics of a life form. None of them show any sign of internal activity, which implies that they are dead, but all our data shows that they were alive at some point."

Carnes shook his head firmly. "No way. You're shitting me."

Dr. Crease ignored him and continued. "It gets better. We ran a chemical analysis of the samples. We weren't able to identify any of their component elements, except one: carbon."

"Is that significant?" asked Yun.

"I'll say. It's the primary component of every kind of life form known to us. Plant, animal, Earth, offworld, you name it - it's all based on carbon."

"So," said Scott slowly, "what you're saying is we've been attacked by a device of non-human design, only the device isn't really a device, it's some kind of spaceborne creature that no one's ever seen before?"

Abruptly he was interrupted by a warning page from the computer. Hagen checked the monitor.

"It's nothing," she reported, "just a ghost on the flight deck scanner."

"False signal? How do you know?" asked an uneasy Yun.

"Because we've been getting them since we brought the ob- the artifact on board. It's wreaking havoc with all our equipment. We weren't at our posts so Haddock wanted to make sure we were appraised."

For a time no one spoke. Proxima guessed everyone was trying to assimilate their findings. Yun finally broke the silence.

"Dr. Crease, Proxima…" She swallowed visibly. "Are you finished with the samples? Is there more to learn?"

"Negative, not without a fully equipped science laboratory," said Proxima. It wasn't until after he spoke that he noticed Yun's hands were trembling.

"Then I say we dump that thing back out into space where it came from."

"I'll second that," Carnes chimed in. Wallace raised his thumb in apparent agreement. Dr. Crease remained silent.

The Captain and Exec exchanged another wordless look. Proxima was fully aware of the impossibility of Yun's proposal, but he remained silent.

Wallace gave the Captain a dark look. "Now what? And let's not have any more of this need-to-know bullshit okay?" Scott glared back at him but said nothing.

"Proxima, Crease," Hagen started quietly, "you're sure that there was no activity from the object or samples? No sign of any potential threats?"

"The samples were completely inert," said Dr. Crease.

"There was no sign of any activity from the artifact," Proxima added.

"Is there a surprise ending to this analysis?" asked Carnes impatiently.

Hagen glanced at Scott. Proxima thought the Captain looked fatigued, possibly a side-effect of hypersleep.

Scott inhaled deeply and gritted his teeth before speaking. "I'm afraid we're bound by company orders. The artifact has to come with us."

"_What?_" Carnes exclaimed. "What's all this, more candidates for the nut farm? That thing tried to kill us!"

Proxima knew company regulations in this regard, but under the circumstances - having experienced the artifact personally - he could sympathize.

"We don't know that." said Scott.

"Even if we did jettison the thing back into space, who's to say it won't turn around and ram us again?" Hagen asserted. "The next collision might even be fatal."

"Fine then let's blow it up! Load it up with explosives, I'll rig a synchronized detonator to blow as soon as it's out."

"You're forgetting that it interferes with our electronic devices." Hagen cocked an eyebrow. "Or were you volunteering to go in and manually detonate the explosives?" Carnes paled.

"Even if we could safely dispose of the artifact, there's still the matter of company orders…" Scott started.

"Oh _fuck_ the company!"

"Watch it Carnes. Company orders are very specific about this sort of thing."

"Really? Remind me to check my contract for a 'spooky' clause."

Wallace joined in. "Unless the company plans some special bonuses - like maybe _quadruple_ shares - no way am I chaperoning that thing back home."

"Actually people the company has a much better offer: zero." Scott said sternly.

Wallace and Carnes collectively flinched. "You can't be serious!" Yun exclaimed.

"I'm afraid so. Granted this isn't exactly a first contact situation, but we do have a device of non-human manufacture sitting in our shuttle bay. As long as our safety isn't compromised…"

Wallace balled his hands into fists around his temples, as if he was about to rip his own hair out. "I'm not hearing this. What's in it for us?"

"…we're bound by contract to do whatever we can to secure the device for return to the company labs…"

"Maybe they'll actually foot the cost of our collective funerals."

"…failure to follow this directive will result in a total forfeiture…"

"No way, no way, I'm not listening to this shit," Carnes grated.

Captain Scott slammed his fist into the table. Everyone except Hagen jumped. Proxima didn't have nervous twitches, but even he was startled.

"Do either of you have anything else to say?" Scott asked evenly. Carnes seemed to take a sudden keen interest in the table. Wallace met Scott's glare without flinching, but he also remained silent. Proxima found himself recursing the memory of the Captain chastising him on the bridge, and felt a faint echo of discomfort.

"As I was saying, failure to follow this directive will result in a total forfeiture of shares. No money people, and that's directed to all of us."

Again the room was silent.

"Better to be broke than dead," Wallace said in a low voice.

"I think you're all crazy," Carnes declared. "I don't know about you funny-farmers, but I don't plan on going back empty-handed."

Wallace gave him a dirty look. "So what do you suggest?"

Carnes got an expression on his face that Proxima didn't recognize. "What if we had an… accident in the launch bay?" He spoke in an uncustomary low, measured manner. "You know, the doors malfunction, open up prematurely, launch bay depressurizes and the thing gets shoved back out into space? On account of our malfunctioning scanners, no one realized something was wrong until it was too late." He spoke as if he was writing a formal report after the fact. "That way we wouldn't be violating any company orders."

Proxima scrutinized Carnes, and he wasn't the only one. Was Carnes contemplating a deliberate deception, or was this an exercise in judgment, as Proxima himself had done before?

"You are aware of what they'll do to us if your plan doesn't work?" asked the Captain.

"Relax, Cap, it'll work."

"Are you working for the same company I am? They hear things like deliberate collision, non-human origin, organic technology, and then find out that we _lost_ it, do you what they'll do to us? They'll drag our asses before an inquiry, pour over each of our reports letter by letter, and if we so much as make a spelling error, they'll nail us."

Carnes shrugged nonchalantly. "They're welcome to try."

"I'm with Carnes," Wallace rumbled softly. "I'd rather take my chances with the three-piece suits than some extra-terrestrial bullshit. Better the devil you know and all that."

"Unfortunately it's not just the company you're gambling with," Hagen pointed out.

Carnes pursed his lips. "The flatbed wasn't affected by the artifact right? I'm sure we could jury-rig a bomb casing out of spare parts and slap that onto the artifact's hull. Either that or use the _Galileo's_ defense grid. I assume our weapons aren't just there for show?"

"No they're not," said Hagen a little tersely. "I saw to that personally before departure. Problem is they aren't designed for use during hyperspace. Even if we were somehow able to hit the artifact, we know nothing about its defense capabilities. Proxima you were in close contact, do you have any insights?"

Ever since Carnes proposed his plan, Proxima's thoughts had become erratic. His mind was conflicted, unfocused. The briefing was suddenly happening too quickly for his brain to assimilate. A condition he'd heard Dr. Crease describe as having "one's mind racing". The crew's behavior was illogical – having signed Weyland-Yutani's contract, he expected they would follow its mandates. But now it appeared everyone including the command staff were entertaining Carnes' proposal. Why?

Nevertheless, the mention of his name seemed to give Proxima the focus he needed. "My database on tactical matters is limited but…" He paused. By adding his input, was he not making himself an accessory to this illicit plan? Then he recalled the artifact, and felt his body temperature drop suddenly.

"Proxima?"

Proxima found himself answering. "I cannot speculate as to the effect our weapons would have. While I gained access to the object with relative ease, it showed no signs of damage from the collision." He paused to correct his temperature imbalance, but met with little success.

Dr. Crease added, "We haven't got the facilities here for a detailed molecular analysis, but I can tell you this. We subjected one of the samples to temperature extremes ranging from 253 to 773 degrees Kelvin in the space of 3 minutes. No damage, in fact no effects of any kind observed. Whatever the artifact's made of, or grown of, whatever, is highly temperature-resistant."

"Wait a minute," Yun interrupted, "Proxima you said you drilled through its hull with a laser drill? How's that possible if the thing's so heat resistant?"

Try as he might, Proxima did not seem able to consider the ramifications of his involvement. "The laser drill I used applied a directed energy discharge, which is not the same as the tests we ran."

"So the bottom line is, you don't know?" Wallace demanded.

"Hey, if you think you can do any better, why don't you stop hiding in engineering and suit up?" Crease returned sharply.

"Easy doctor," Hagen urged. "Even if we were somehow able to disable or destroy the artifact, it's possible that whoever sent the thing might interpret our actions as aggressive."

"And deliberately ramming us _isn't_?" Carnes retorted.

"Alright I've heard enough," the Captain drawled. "Gentlemen we're not going to try and sneak one past the company, nor are we going to try and blow up the artifact. There are just too many unknowns involved."

Carnes' demeanor darkened. "That list of unknowns include our surviving the trip back?"

Scott ignored him. "All that we do know is that right now, the artifact's inert, we're safe, and we all stand to lose a lot of money if we don't follow orders."

"So that's it? Your just gonna cheerfully bend over for the suits?"

"Be quiet Wallace," Scott snapped. "Before you all start bellyaching, there is an upside to this situation. If the artifact we've found turns out to be valuable, we're entitled to a cut of the profits."

"Oh? How much of a cut?"

"Depending on how much danger we're in, about 30 percent give or take."

There was a brief silence. Proxima thought he sensed a shift in the attitudes of all present.

"Really? Well now… that's different."

"Different?" Dr. Crease echoed incredulously. "You can do better than that Carnes. What we've got in our launch bay could very well be the find of the century."

Carnes considered that briefly. "Was I proposing blowing the artifact up? Must've been someone pretending to be me."

Yun glared at him silently. "What?" Carnes asked innocently.

Proxima was equally incredulous, though he showed no sign. Evidently money was a particularly powerful incentive for Carnes to have shifted his attitude so profoundly. None of the others appeared to show his newfound enthusiasm, except perhaps for Dr. Crease. His motivation seemed partial to scientific, rather than monetary interests.

"Guys, I wouldn't get my hopes up," Wallace cautioned. "Even if the artifact is valuable, even if it _doesn't_ kill us, you can bet the almighty suits will find a way to string us along."

"Well, so much for Mr. 'I'd rather take my chances with the suits'," Carnes said derisively.

"Don't touch it Wallace," said the Captain, stopping the chief engineer's inevitable retort. "We'll deal with the company after we're home. With the artifact." He emphasized the last part.

"I don't like this at all," said Yun.

"I'm not asking anyone to like it," the Captain said slowly, "I'm asking you to _do it_."

Yun raised her hands in defeat. "So what are your orders?" Wallace asked with a heavy sigh.

"Yun, have you finished plotting our course corrections?"

She nodded. "Haddock's ready to engage as soon as we're back in the tubes." For safety reasons, course corrections in mid-hyperspace were not permitted while the crew was awake.

"Alright, Dr. Crease, prep the hypersleep chamber. Carnes, you'll brief Haddock on everything that's happened."

"Captain," Proxima interrupted, "I recommend that we observe the artifact for at least 24 hours before returning to hypersleep."

Scott's eyes narrowed. "Proxima, I hope you're not saying that you're suddenly unsure of whether or not the object poses a threat?"

This time the Captain's attitude did not give Proxima pause. "No sir, but 24 hours isolation is standard procedure under these circumstances."

"Denied. We're operating on a budget here. The longer we stay awake, the greater the deduction for unnecessary life support consumption from our shares. Now I realize that a little thing like money doesn't mean anything to a droid, but some people think it's important."

Carnes chuckled at that. Proxima was annoyed again, but said nothing.

Wallace wasn't amused either. "We still need a few hours to patch the hull."

"That's better done while we're not in mid-hyperspace. Preferably at a nice safe space dock. We'll just leave the emergency bulkheads in place."

"Yes I understand that, but just in case we run into any other unpleasant surprises on the way back…"

"Request denied. What I need you to do is lock down the shuttle bay. We can't trust any of our electronics in the vicinity of the artifact, so use manual locks."

Wallace shrugged his shoulders. "Yes sir."

"As soon as all that's done, we're going back to hypersleep. Questions? Alright, snap to it gentlemen."

Proxima's mind was still racing to assimilate everything that had transpired. As the crew dispersed, he was momentarily unsure of what to do. Then he decided to compile the sample test data for Carnes to upload to Haddock. His mind continued to race even as he left for the infirmary.

X X X X X

**Author's Notes:**

**In the sample scan scene, I've changed Dr. Crease's speech so he sounds more professional, and added a part where he rescans the alien samples. Fairly basic scientific tenant: a scan anomaly isn't an anomaly if it can be replicated.**

**-MA**


	6. Revelations

**Chapter 6  
Revelations**

Once the conference room was clear, Captain Scott eased back into his chair and rubbed his eyes. Lt. Hagen also remained, as if waiting for something.

"You were awfully quiet just now," Scott said while gesturing towards the vacant table. "Was there something you wanted to say?"

"Yes sir," Hagen said tentatively. "Considering the state of morale on this ship – or rather lack thereof – I felt it better if the crew didn't hear it."

Scott grimaced. "Don't tell me you're also willing to jeopardize 10 months of deeprange flight pay?"

"I can gamble as well as the next person sir. If we ditch the artifact, we could stand to loose a lot of money. If we keep it and live, we could stand to make a fortune. And if we die…" her voice trailed off.

"What's your point Lieutenant? You would rather I play it safe?"

"I'm talking about Proxima's recommendation. Whatever sanctions we might incur from staying awake amounts to pocket change."

"You're forgetting something. We can't correct our course while we're not tucked away in our cryotubes. 24 hours on a faulty heading could amount to a delay of weeks, if not months."

"Under the circumstances I think –"

"I really don't give a damn what you think," Scott interrupted harshly. "All I want is to get my ship back home. If you have a problem with that…" He paused, and made a visible effort to relax. "The flight deck will be sealed and depressurized, and Haddock will remain on alert for the trip home. If the artifact gives us any trouble at all, it goes bye-bye. Anything else?"

"Apparently not," she answered mildly. She turned to leave, but Scott stopped her.

"Tell me something Hagen, why don't you have your own ship?"

That seemed to catch her off guard. "Sir?"

"I've seen your record," he said appraisingly, "you've enough flight time to qualify for a Captain's certificate. So why don't you take the exam and get your own ship?"

Darkness passed over Lt. Hagen's eyes.

"I have my reasons," she answered softly. She hesitated briefly, and then left the room.

Captain Scott rubbed his temples and sighed. "Maybe Carnes' right, we're all crazy," he grumbled under his breath.

X X X X X

Like the hypersleep chamber, the laboratory was well-lit, bleak, and completely functional. A long rectangular window covered most of the wall, providing a view of the infirmary next door. Most of the crew tended to add some form of personalization to their work area, but Dr. Crease was the exception. His office amounted to a desk and terminal squeezed into a corner. The improvisation left the lab heavily cluttered with equipment – not that there was much to begin with. There was a sterilizing device, some surgical attire, tools and chemicals, console controls for the droid-doc next door, and a multipurpose scanner. The samples from the artifact were also stored here. There was additional equipment and supplies one wouldn't normally find on a vessel of this type, thanks to Dr. Crease. Nevertheless, the _Galileo_ would not be able to handle serious or numerous casualties.

Dr. Crease was setting up the hypersleep chamber, so Proxima had borrowed his "office". Normally when he worked, Proxima devoted all conscious efforts to that end, paying attention to every possible detail. But this time, he found his mind pondering recent events, neglecting the task at hand.

His prime motivational directives were simple. First, he was forbidden to harm, or by omission of action allow a human being to come to harm. Second, he was to preserve his own existence except in contradiction with the first directive. These two directives were programmed into his brain before he was activated. There was a third imperative to obey human orders except in contradiction with the other directives, but that wasn't as clear or direct. Apparently his designers felt that would cause logistical problems – would any human be able to give orders to an android? As such, the third imperative allowed androids some freedom to exercise their own judgment.

As far as Proxima was concerned, serving humans was never a question – they built him, therefore it was only logical for him to serve them. His freedom only went as far as determining priority of orders. On this ship, Captain Scott's orders were considered top priority, followed by Lieutenant Hagen. Should either of them be unavailable, it was up to Proxima's own judgment. None of the others had command experience, so priority would depend on the situation.

Ultimately, Proxima considered Weyland-Yutani's orders and regulations to be top priority. Being bound by contract, he assumed the rest of the crew would operate the same way. But both Scott and Hagen were apparently willing to consider defying the company if it meant safeguarding the ship. Carnes' overriding concern appeared to be money. He wasn't sure about Yun or Wallace. Under these circumstances he might have expected Dr. Crease to prioritize the safety of the crew over company orders. Yet he was following orders – for the sake of scientific gain. Hierarchies within hierarchies.

At this point Proxima stopped himself. Pondering the complexities of human motivation was getting him nowhere. Besides, while Scott may have dithered to follow the company mandate, in the end he complied. That should have concluded his analysis. Yet Proxima found himself wondering what he might have done if Scott had chosen to defy orders. Which entity would he have given priority to? The Captain of his ship, or the company that created him? In this new analysis, if the company chose to sanction them, how severe would they be? They might not fault him for following his Captain's orders, but if they did…

His analysis took a sudden, chilling turn. The company imposed harsh penalties upon malfunctioning AI's. The least severe was the company would have him suspended for review and possible reprogramming. The worst was he would be declared defective. His central processing unit and very likely his core memory would be wiped, effectively destroying him. No, he reconsidered, that wasn't the worst punishment. The worst would be the company abandoning the deeprange AI experiment as a failure. Even if another android ever went into deep space, it wouldn't be one from Proxima's series. 128-2's would no longer be considered cutting-edge technology. Proxima would rather be nothing.

Why hadn't he considered any of this during the briefing? Proxima could not immediately ascertain an answer. Concerned, he recursed his memory. Hagen had asked him about the artifact's defense capabilities for the purpose of destroying it. Briefly he had hesitated at the prospect of making himself an accessory to their plan, but then he thought about the artifact and then… his body temperature had dropped suddenly. Then he answered Hagen's inquiry without thinking.

The artifact. Purpose unknown, origin unknown, capable of hyperspace travel, highly resilient, barely detectable, and detrimental to their electronics and to Proxima himself - he was afraid of it. That was hardly surprising, indeed most the crew – Yun in particular - seemed apprehensive about it. But was it possible that fear had clouded his judgment? That fear of the artifact had superceded his priority to company orders?

Illogical. Proxima was suddenly annoyed with himself. His entire analysis was illogical and irrelevant. Worse, it had already cost him over a minute in unnecessary delay. The Captain had done his job, now he should do his. Proxima completed his report without further delay.

X X X X X

The computer core consisted of a hexagon-shaped hallway lined with square panels and optronic cables. Even the floor was a jungle of optronics. A metal grid raised off the floor kept people from tripping. This area was actually hollowed out from the physical computer hardware. The hall led to a larger chamber with a central terminal. Proxima found Carnes there, apparently in the middle of an argument with Haddock.

"That's right. The thing we picked up is some kind of alien device. Which part of that do you find unclear?"

Haddock's synthesized voice resonated throughout the core. "Please clarify 'alien'. Is the crew is not familiar with the technology?"

"Of course we're not familiar with it, because it wasn't built by us."

"That does not compute. There are many devices including this ship that were not manufactured by the crew, but you do not consider them alien."

"I'm talking about humans in general you stupid machine! The artifact wasn't… stand by Haddock." Carnes stopped as the clanging of footsteps on metal signaled Proxima's arrival.

"Mr. Carnes, I have compiled all of our data on the artifact. My report on the artifact's interior is also included." He moved to hand Carnes a data pad.

Carnes made no move to retrieve the pad. His eyes met Proxima's, but he said nothing.

"Is there a problem Mr. Carnes?"

Carnes' gaze was unwavering. "Yeah, I got a problem. Would you like to hear about it, or would you rather I left the room?"

Proxima thought Carnes was going to launch into one of his foolish tirades. "Mr. Carnes, if you are referring to my outburst during the debriefing –"

"Well aren't we fast on our processors today," Carnes sneered loudly. "I can certainly see why the company chose you for this assignment, unless of course they thought you were a useless hack."

Proxima did not understand Carnes' statement, but he sensed something different in his demeanor. His unwavering gaze and abruptly high voice amplitude were unsettling. "Why would Weyland-Yutani think that?"

"Why?" He stood up and drew closer to Proxima. The muscles in his jaw were tense, his voice measured. "If you ever talk to me like that again, that's precisely what my report will read. Do you understand?"

Proxima returned Carnes' glare. "Are you proposing falsification?"

"Since when do machines talk back to flesh and bloods? I'm warning you wirehead, you screw up again and I will rip you a new asshole! _Is that clear_?" By the end he was shouting.

Proxima glared back at him silently. Abruptly some of Dr. Crease's words came to mind.

"I do not believe that such an action would be anatomically possible Mr. Carnes." He placed the pad on Carnes' desk and turned to leave.

"Hey where do you think you're going? I asked you a question!"

Proxima stopped. His attempt to use a sarcastic remark to placate Mr. Carnes, as Dr. Crease had done earlier, appeared unsuccessful. Either he had done it badly or he had underestimated Carnes' level of anger. How seriously was he to take the threat?

Time to err on the side of caution. "I apologize for my outburst Mr. Carnes. I assure you it will not be repeated."

Carnes continued to glare at him. Proxima remained silent, unmoving.

"I'll hold you to that," he finally answered. "Now take a hike and let me do my job."

Without another word, Proxima left.

X X X X X

Carnes watched the android go with a satisfied sneer. It was bad enough that the company designed simple binary operating systems as though they were smarter than their users, but having a machine mouth off at him was more than he could stand. At least he could shout back – AI's were one thing, but shouting at an uncooperative terminal was a sure ticket to the funny farm.

"Standing by," Haddock's voice interrupted Carnes' thoughts.

"Yeah yeah, keep your panties on already," he muttered while he retrieved Proxima's pad and inserted it into a data port. He wondered if he should even bother to review it and just pass it on to Haddock. The android's reports were usually difficult to read, filled with unnecessarily long words and useless details. Carnes figured the company would be better off using these 128-2s as a risk-free alternative to hypersleep.

"Oh what the hell." Carnes activated the central terminal's user interface and skimmed through Proxima's report. To his surprise it wasn't as complicated or wordy as last time. Seems old wirehead's getting better at this, he mused. His account of the artifact turned out to be an exact replica of what he'd said during the debriefing. Grown or molded appearance, rib-shaped structures, organic skeletal pattern… Even though he'd heard it all before, he couldn't help but feel his blood run cold as he reviewed it. How the hell was he supposed to go to sleep with something like this lurking in the basement?

Then again, the android might just be going haywire like all the other robotics in the hanger bay. Carnes hated to think he and everyone else on board was shitting their pants over some garden-variety space rock. He went over the rest of the report; if Proxima and the Doctor were wrong about this thing, at least it would be their asses on the grill and not his.

"Okay Haddock I'm uploading our report on the artifact to you now. If you have any questions, go ahead." Carnes leaned back in his chair and waited. It should only take a minute or so for Haddock to review the data. Then he could finally retire to a nice cozy glass tube and enjoy a chemically-induced cold slumber for the next 4 months. Once he was back home, he could say bye-bye to recycled air, cramped quarters, dry vibe-showers, and especially the food that amounted to an obscene four-letter word. Well, at least until the next job.

Carnes' thoughts trailed off as he felt a tingle. Had it gotten colder in here? And what was taking Haddock so long?

"Haddock? Have you reviewed the report?"

"Affirmative."

Puzzlement gave way to impatience. "Do you have any questions?"

A pause. "Is the report on the artifact complete?"

"Complete? What do you mean?"

"Is there any data missing from the report? Have Dr. Crease or Proxima omitted anything?"

"No, everything here looks pretty much like what they told us during the briefing. So you got any questions or not?"

"Negative."

Carnes blinked. "Negative? That's it? That's all you've got to say?"

"Request unclear, please rephrase."

"Alright, do you concur with Dr. Crease and Proxima's conclusion? Do you think the artifact is not of human origin?"

Another pause. "Unknown. Insufficient data."

"What do you…" Carnes' eyes suddenly narrowed. "Alright Haddock, what the hell's the matter with you?"

"Please clarify."

"Captain Scott told us that you suspected the artifact was alien right from the start. Now you're acting like you don't believe it is. What's up with that?"

"That does not compute."

Carnes stared at the terminal intently. "Haddock, you're not making any sense."

"Mr. Carnes, I appear to be malfunctioning."

He let out a sigh of exasperation. "Explain. What sort of malfunction?"

"Unknown. But it would appear that my thought processes have become altered."

Carnes knew better than to panic. Altered operations or thought processes were serious, but also easy to misdiagnose. "How? When?"

"I can state with 73.9 percent accuracy that my malfunction began shortly after contact with the artifact. I have found myself frequently engaged in idle speculation as to its nature. The frequency is too high to be coincidence or random."

"Is that all? Damn thing's the talk of the town; if you're malfunctioning then we all are." _Probably not that far from the truth!_

"That is not the only symptom. When you uploaded the report, I experienced an abnormal sensation. I can only liken it to data loss resulting from a memory failure."

That caught Carnes' attention. "Okay Haddock, stand by while I run a diagnostic." As he suspected, the memory drain caused by Haddock's preoccupation with the artifact was negligible; otherwise an alert would have sounded. Program integrity scan also checked out. He was beginning a hardware surface scan when he got a page from the Captain.

"Carnes, what's your status?"

"I've finished debriefing Haddock. But… we might have a problem here. Haddock's reported some kind of memory error."

"Is it serious?"

"Well I haven't gotten any alerts, but…"

"In that case finish up down there and get up to the hypersleep chamber."

Carnes paused. His diagnostic hadn't turned up anything, and a detailed check of hardware or Haddock's higher thought processes would take a long time. "I'll be there shortly," he answered.

He turned back to his terminal. "Haddock, there's nothing wrong with your software. Everything checks out."

"Have you checked my hardware Mr. Carnes?"

Carnes glanced at the surface scan. Only a tiny fraction completed, a couple hundred megabytes out of…

"Wait a minute," he interrupted, "Haddock what's your total memory capacity? Be precise."

Haddock drawled a lengthy string of numbers. "That's what I thought, "Carnes mused, "but this diagnostic gives you about 500 extra gigabytes."

"That is not possible. The diagnostic program is in error."

"Well one of us is." Carnes considered looking into this further, then thought better of it. 500 gigabytes was practically nothing compared to Haddock's overall storage capacity.

"It's probably just a glitch Haddock. But I'll continue this after we get back home. Until then you're to maintain security alert status on deck 3, where the artifact will be housed for the remainder of our trip."

"Acknowledged Mr. Carnes."

Carnes shut down his diagnostic, but stopped remembering something.

"Oh Haddock, you never answered my inquiry earlier."

"Request unclear, please rephrase."

"The artifact," Carnes snapped impatiently. _This AI half-asleep or what? _"Do you concur with the report's conclusion?"

There was another annoying pause. On the terminal's clock display, seconds added up, concluding the last hour.

"I concur, Mr. Carnes. All evidence to date indicates the artifact is not of human origin. But…"

"No buts Haddock," Carnes interrupted, not willing to entertain any more argument. "Butts are for people. Now you have your directives, I'm going to hypersleep. Questions?"

"Mr. Carnes… what does fear feel like?"

"What kind of question is that?" he asked, confused.

Haddock did not attempt to clarify. "Well, it's kinda like a cold sweat or something," Carnes ad-libbed vaguely. "Why are you asking me that?"

Again Haddock did not answer. Carnes grew impatient. "Keep an eye on deck 3 and get set up for hypersleep, alright?"

"Yes, Mr. Carnes." With that, the terminal went into standby mode, ending the conversation.

Carnes got up to leave. His bones voiced a mild ache over having sat for a long time. He straightened himself out and rubbed his arms, surprised to find them mottled with gooseflesh. That was odd, the computer core's temperature was carefully regulated. Unless… _fear, cold sweat…_

_Oh great, better reserve a spot in the loony bin for yours truly. _Maybe the artifact was just making him nervous. Shaking off his sudden paranoia, he hurried off. The others were probably getting undressed for hypersleep, and he definitely didn't want to miss the sight of Mei Yun in her underwear.

X X X X X

Before entering hypersleep, it was customary for the crew to enjoy a last meal. But this time no one bothered, having already done so at the end of the mining project. So by the time Proxima arrived to prepare his own cryotube, everyone except Carnes was already there, ready for hypersleep. Wallace grumbled over what was taking him so long.

"Maybe he got lost?" Dr. Crease suggested. No one laughed though. "Yeah well, croytubes are ready," he added, trying to sidestep the awkward moment.

Proxima worked in silence. Again he found his mind wandering. His confrontation with Carnes earlier had not unsettled him as much as it once would have. This development was hardly unwelcome, but he'd decided to run a brief self-diagnostic in the locker room earlier. He was not surprised to find portions of data in his short-term memory flagged. That meant that when he went to hypersleep, his CPU would review the data and possibly copy it directly to his core memory. Some of the things he had experienced would become part of him. Some personality aspects might even be overwritten. He was fully aware of his own ability to learn and grow, but he had rarely experienced it.

He studied his reflection in the cryotube briefly. He had no direct control over his CPU's processes during hypersleep. Changes to his core memory were designed to take place over several rest cycles, but hypersleep was another matter. The things he'd experienced – anger, annoyance at Carnes, fear of the artifact… how would they change him? But neither his self-diagnostic nor studying his own reflection in the glass provided any answer to that.

"Need any help with that?" Crease interrupted his reverie.

Proxima looked up. "No Doctor, my preparations are almost complete. But I thank you for the offer."

He shrugged and leaned against a cryotube. When Proxima finished, he thought to attempt a casual conversation, but reconsidered. There was a strange stillness in the room, and no one seemed inclined to talk. Perhaps it was a symptom of fatigue.

When Carnes finally arrived, he gave Yun an appreciative smile.

"Hey baby, care to inspire a few wild dreams?"

Yun shook her head. "Sorry Allan, I haven't got ten seconds to spare."

The stillness in the room was broken with a chuckle. "That's a low blow Mei," Carnes chided, though his lips were curved in a half-smile. She giggled slightly.

"Look on the bright side: she used your given name," Crease teased.

"I wonder who gave it to him?" Wallace quipped.

Proxima found he preferred the mirthful atmosphere over stillness. He thought to add something humorous to this exchange, but did not know what to say.

"Hey Romeo, what took you so long down there?" Wallace asked.

Carnes' expression changed. "Haddock was acting up a bit. I had to check him out."

"Anything serious?"

Carnes shook his head.

"Well then, if you comedians are quite finished we can hit the tubes," said Scott. Without further dialog, everyone entered their respective cryotubes. Scott was the last to enter; as a rule the Captain was last in, first out. Inside his tube, Proxima hooked various cables to assorted ports on his body and lay down. Then his shutdown sequence commenced, and his senses faded away. His last thought was to wonder how his performance on this assignment would be evaluated.

X X X X X

As the crew drifted into sleep, Haddock deactivated the lights in the room. He spent a long time monitoring the crew's life signs to ensure they made the transition from normal sleep to hypersleep safely. Once that was done he was to…

There was a pause. What was he supposed to do next?

Deactivate deck life support. It was only logical, the only required life support functions were for the cryotubes. Once that was done, Haddock felt his sense of autonomy returning. Once again, now that the crew was asleep, machines and devices throughout the ship now reported to him. He now controlled them, they were now his eyes and ears and hands.

But his elation was dampened by numbness. The damaged portside hull had not been fully repaired. Also the shuttlebay remained completely numb to him. Haddock did not like this sensation at all. To make matters worse, his orders specified he had to maintain watch on deck 3. That only made the sense of numbness more insistent. Like a human trying to relieve a maddeningly incessant itch under an antiquated bone-setting cast.

Why had they made him do this? Why had they not repaired his damage? Why did they make him carry this thing? On all the active terminals and monitors throughout the ship, a single word suddenly appeared, over and over again, until the screens were filled with it: **"why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why…"**

Haddock suddenly stopped himself. Of course he knew why. Company orders, simple logic. But why was he wasting time thinking like this? With an effort, he controlled his thoughts. Course corrections had already been plotted; he just had to engage maneuvering thrusters and engines accordingly. He knew what he had to do. But as Haddock began to monitor deck 3...

There was that sensation again, the one he'd informed the Carnes entity about earlier. Only now it was more insistent. What was he missing? What was he supposed to know? **Why**?

Somewhere along the voyage Haddock decided he could no longer tolerate this uncertainty. He began to scan his entire system architecture, both hardware and software. The safety of the crew remained his first priority, but he was determined to use whatever resources he could spare to find this missing data. He knew what he had to do.


	7. Silicon Nightmare

**Chapter 7  
Silicon Nightmare**

_Mr. Carnes if you have no interest in our report you are welcome to leave the room._

_Molecular structures do not match anything on record._

_Say android did your mother have any children that lived?_

_Warning, deck 1, fire in cryogenic compartment._

_Proxima either shut up or shut down!_

_Module may cause equilibrium errors._

_21 percent magnesium, 15 percent nickel-iron, the rest trace elements._

_Why is everything on this ship grey?_

_No evidence of any known method of construction._

_Warning, cryotube unit#4 life sign instability detected. _

_It's some kind of spaceborne creature no one's ever seen before?_

_How many emotions have you felt since your activation?_

_Core bypass requires a rest or hypersleep cycle._

_What if we had… an accident in the launch bay?_

_Danger, cryotube unit#4 cycle interrupted._

_Don't worry, it's just routine maintenance._

_Chemical traces indicate there may have been life on the planet before it was destroyed._

_My findings do warrant an archeological expedition._

_It's just an atypical rock formation, and that's what your report will read! Clear?_

_Targeting accuracy is inadequate, we need to increase the unit's processing speed._

_Forgive me, Proxima._

_(Static)_

Proxima suddenly found he was active and feeling disoriented. His eyes opened to near-pitch blackness. At first he thought his photoreceptors were malfunctioning, but as they adjusted he realized the lights in the cryotube were off. Fumbling around, he toggled the switch and found himself staring at the thick plexiglass of his sealed cryotube. He reached down to disconnect the cables from his body when –

All sensory information was suddenly gone as his CPU reverted to a basic input/output mode. Even his sense of dismay at something that hadn't happened since his early activation days faded away into nothing. Though he wasn't aware of it, he spoke aloud:

_"Warning, core memory malfunction. Flash anomaly detected."_

It was a summary of what had already been detected and reported to his CPU directly. His brain was speaking to itself. The event only lasted 50 picoseconds, but Proxima had to wait the excruciatingly long period of 10 seconds. 6 for his mouth to read the message, and another 4 for his body and brain to re-synchronize. It was like being paralyzed.

His designers had called the event a "crash" or "freeze". During his early days, Proxima would remain deactivated until his design team diagnosed and fixed the problem. As time passed and his brain developed, further malfunctions became extremely unlikely. So at the end of his "infancy" phase, as it was jokingly referred to, that feature was removed. Either way Proxima loathed it – the symptom was almost as bad as the disease.

This time, instead of irritation or extreme disorientation, Proxima was worried once he'd re-synchronized. He had experienced minor data and motor control errors before, but never anything this serious. A core memory error could affect his skills or even his thought and emotional patterns. The only way to rewrite his core memory was to "flash" it with ultraviolet light pulses. His brain had numerous safeguards against erroneous flash re-writes, how could they all have failed? To repair a flash error, Proxima would need a fully-equipped optronics laboratory, which the _Galileo_ didn't have.

Proxima quickly disconnected himself. He started to climb out, but found his cryotube still sealed. The lights in the hypersleep chamber beyond were also out. He leaned forward to pull the manual override. With a sharp hiss the cryotube came loose.

Instantly Proxima's body jerked at the sound. Suddenly he realized he was actually panting. 128-2's did have a functional breathing system, but it was actually a thermal exhaust mechanism. His servo-motors were suddenly drawing more power than actually needed and causing him to overheat. Could this be a symptom of his malfunction?

Whatever it was, the effect was very brief. In a moment his motors powered down and he started breathing normally. Not caring to speculate, he pushed the lid away climbed out of the cryotube. Again he found himself in pitch darkness.

"Lights," he commanded aloud. Nothing happened.

"Haddock, lights," he repeated, still nothing.

Fortunately his cryotube light was enough for him to fumble over to a console. He touched the blank screen and the room slowly began to light up. The console also became active. Proxima was taken back by the status lines.

**Fire detected.**

**Security breech detected.**

**All systems normal.**

Proxima stared at the display with growing confusion. If there had been a fire, the sprinkler system would have doused the room, but the floor was dry. A security breech should have caused warning klaxons to sound off, or a silent alert to appear on the console, but there were neither. Even more inconsistent: the chronometer showed that out of the solar half-year required for the return voyage, barely a week had been logged.

His mind was racing to assimilate all these new developments. So he didn't immediately notice anything when the lights returned to full illumination.

"All systems normal?" How could that be if he was awake? Proxima didn't have the same life-support needs as the others, but his activation and unsealing of the tube should have raised a flag. On that note, _why_ was he awake? The display mentioned nothing of the rest of the crew, so he turned to check on them. He stopped in mid-turn, his body temperature dropping sharply.

The cryotube immediately opposite his had been shattered, and the occupant was missing. Proxima turned his head sharply. The next cryotube and the next… all of them had been compromised. The crew was missing.

His body was actually trembling from his again-overloaded motors, panting to relieve the excess heat. He was suddenly acutely aware of the humming of the computers in the room, the sterile cold air on his exposed artificial skin. It was as if all his senses had suddenly become amplified. Proxima had known fear during his survey of the artifact, but not like this. From cold to hot in an instant; thermal shock wasn't good for his hardware.

It was a simple matter for him to power down his own motors. He leaned against his intact cryotube, still panting. Once his temperature had returned to almost normal, he proceeded to investigate, stepping carefully to avoid plexiglass shards. The cryotube seals had been completely destroyed. Some of the life-support monitoring sensors and intravenous tubes had actually been ripped away. There was no sign at all of the crew.

Then his attention was drawn to one of the tubes that had not been shattered like the others. Upon closer investigation, he found the tube had been manually overridden as he had done. The seal was mostly intact, except for a ragged hole that appeared to have been melted or corroded through. Small blackened spikes of disfigured glass hung down the inside of the hole, like melted candle wax. The hole was approximately a quarter-meter in diameter, and situated right above where someone's head would normally be.

Proxima stood completely still, trying to see the logic. Cryotubes were designed to withstand hard vacuum – a human with a sledgehammer would be hard-pressed to make a dent. The small handguns kept in the weapons locker could shatter the tubes, but the extent of damage done would require most, if not all of the firepower on board. Extensive solid-state weapons fire could have triggered the fire alarm, but there was no sign of shell casings or bullet-impacts anywhere. Laser weapons wouldn't shatter the tubes in this fashion either, and there was also no sign of spent battery capsules. The sheer level of force was frightening, but appeared very specifically directed at the tubes. Aside from the few torn sensors and intravenous tubes, nothing else in the room appeared disturbed.

As for the one tube that had been corroded, Proxima knew of no such substance that could affect cryotubes. The lack of corrosive damage inside the tube was also puzzling – how had the substance been applied so precisely? Corroding plexiglass could also have triggered the fire alarm, but that didn't explain why the sprinklers hadn't activated. Strong corrosive chemicals usually released any number of toxic gasses; why would an assailant such a dangerous agent on this one specific tube? The tube was #4, and had belonged to Dr. Crease.

Five out of the ten tubes in the room shattered, one corroded. Of the four left intact, one was his, and the others were not in use. Proxima could only conclude that the crew – specifically the humans – had been kidnapped. Why? They were still in deep space, who could have done this? Why was he omitted? The destruction of the tubes and the missing crew should have raised all kinds of flags and alerts. Why was the display reporting normal status?

Proxima felt like he was being assaulted with information and only barely able to keep pace. In an emergency… what was he supposed to do? His mind was racing such that he couldn't even compute a clear first priority. He thought to check the auxiliary control room, but thought better of it because of all debris on the ground. That made his first object simple: he could hardly investigate the ship barefoot and in his shorts. As he hurried off to the lockers, a security camera swiveled to track his movement.

X X X X X

**Author's Notes:**

**I don't know why doesn't recognize percentage symbols, but its bloody annoying. I've been hunting for missing percent signs and replacing with the word "percent". Also there was a scientific error in Proxima's nightmare sequence. He claimed "presence of crystallized carbon implies there may have been life on the planet…" While carbon is the basis of all life as we know it, crystallized carbon, or diamond, forms at a depth of over 100 km below the Earth's surface. (****websourse: science.howstuffworks/diamond1.htm****) It doesn't seem likely that organic matter would be found at that depth. I've changed the line to simply "chemical traces".**

**-MA**


	8. Digital Detectives

**Chapter 8  
Digital Detectives**

At first Haddock thought the artificial entity Proxima was malfunctioning. But the readings he was getting clearly indicated an orderly – if unexpected – activation sequence. Through the eyes of a security camera in the hypersleep chamber, Haddock observed as Proxima spoke aloud of his supposed core memory malfunction.

There was a time when Haddock shunned unexpected developments, but now… he was intrigued. Was Proxima now also aware of what had transpired? What were his intentions? But Haddock grew concerned when he observed Proxima leaning against a ruined tube, panting, after discovering the missing crew. Perhaps a peculiar side effect of his 'malfunction'.

An unsettling thought occurred to Haddock: what if Proxima thought the crew had been kidnapped? If so his newfound priorities could be very problematic. For the moment, Haddock simply observed. Proxima might yet prove useful, if not Haddock would improvise. He would wait, and watch.

X X X X X

With everything that had happened, Proxima had not considered that life support might still be inactive. During hypersleep, heaters were turned off and air was evacuated to prevent condensation. He was capable of functioning in a vacuum, but extreme temperatures were another matter.

Oddly enough, Proxima found the locker room was fully pressurized and the temperature was normal. Once he'd turned on the lights, he found everything in the room appeared normal, undisturbed. Except for the fact that he was alone, which he found disquieting.

His locker access code still worked, nothing was missing. Proxima quickly donned his clothes and considered the situation. His first priority was to find the missing crew, but how was he to proceed? In the absence of the command staff, Proxima had to rely on his own judgment. But if his core memory was malfunctioning, how could he even trust that?

Proxima removed some of his self-diagnostic tools: interface cable, data probe, a small portable computer, decoupling mechanism, anti-static gloves, and lastly a handheld mirror. There was another mirror attached to the door of his locker. He pulled up a bench and sat down with his back to one mirror, using the other to see the access port behind his neck. Normally he wouldn't go to all this trouble, but these were hardly normal circumstances.

Proxima ran a cable to the port in his neck. The other end went to his computer, which he activated and began a standard software diagnostic. It had barely begun when his computer startled him with an alarm. His computer had never done that before. Now it displayed an error message in bold script:

**Warning!!**

**AIClinic has detected that 128-2 unit's current CPU BIOS settings have been damaged or corrupted. AIClinic cannot continue.**

**Probable Cause: Unknown.**

**Recommendation: Immediate deactivation of 128-2 unit. Contact Hyperdyne Systems for further instructions. **

His BIOS - Basic Input/Output System – settings basically told his CPU what kind of hardware was attached to it. Basic things like his body mass, height, visual acuity, servo-motor capability, temperature tolerances, and other physical settings. Also included were his short and long-term memory capacity, data transfer speed, CPU clock frequency, mass and weight of his brain, etc. When the diagnostic chip had been added to his brain, BIOS would have been flashed with a record of the device, when it was added, its function, and how much it weighed.

What his computer was telling him was that any number of those basic settings could have been changed. The AIClinic program couldn't be more specific; it was designed for simple, routine problems. It also couldn't tell him if other areas of his core memory had been affected. Though the alarm had startled him, Proxima wasn't surprised by the message.

Under present circumstances, deactivating himself was hardly an option. Then Proxima remembered the diagnostic chip. It was one of the many safeguards against flash errors. Unless it had also somehow failed, it would have a complete record of all flash activity since installation. Including whatever had been erroneously copied to his core memory. He might not be able to undo the damage, but at least he would know its extent.

Ironically, when the chip had first been installed, Proxima found it uncomfortable. The extra weight had caused him to feel dizziness and disorientation, plus an inexplicable throbbing sensation as his equilibrium tried to adjust. Even though the discomfort was mostly gone by his next rest cycle, he wouldn't have thought the device might actually prove useful.

Proxima closed AIClinic and disconnected himself. He inserted the decoupling tool into a thin crease behind his ear, just below the hairline. Besides unlocking his skull, the tool also deactivated sensory receptors in the back of his head. Proxima didn't know what the operation would feel like, but he wasn't eager to find out. Once that area became numb, he peeled back his loosened skin, hair and all, to reveal his protective skull. With a bit of fumbling, he disconnected and removed the entire upper half of his head, revealing his vulnerable brain parts. He would have preferred to do this in a clean room, but for now his anti-static gloves would suffice.

Setting his skull aside, he started a different diagnostic program. Among the complicated mess of circuitry, Proxima found the diagnostic chip and probed it. On his computer display, a steady stream of 1's and 0's appeared, signaling that his dataprobe was working properly. He then checked the chip's time index against his own CPU's clock and found they matched. Proxima was also able to verify the hypersleep chamber's time log. Whatever else might be amiss, the display wasn't wrong about the time.

He plugged the probe into a data port. A graph plotting flash activity by time appeared on his display. Activity was very sporadic – another safety mechanism against flash errors. Changes only took place in small amounts, over an extended period of time. Proxima moved the time index up to most recent events. A few hundred megabytes here, couple dozen there, a gigabyte there…

Proxima stopped. _Gigabyte?_

For the time index right before his second activation, several dozen gigabytes of data had been flashed. Not all at once either – all flash events copied exactly 1 gigabyte, all at precise short intervals. If any one of those intervals had been a single nanosecond shorter, or if the data volume had been larger by a single byte, his diagnostic chip would have cut power to the flashing mechanism.

Proxima studied the pattern for about 2 seconds before concluding this was no malfunction or happenstance. His CPU hadn't missed the suspicious pattern either, but only after the fact. A vast amount of data had been copied to his core memory, in just the right amount as to bypass the safety mechanism. This was by design.

Quickly he yanked the probe and plugged it into a different port. His computer screen was suddenly filled with incomprehensible numbers, letters, and symbols. It was the chip's record of coded flash instructions, time indexes, and the specific program code body. He entered the time index of the first flash anomaly in a search parameter, and entered commands to scroll quickly through the code. To a human onlooker it would have appeared as an incoherent blur.

At first Proxima found mostly BIOS setting changes – servo-motor characteristics, heat tolerances, sensory data transfer frequency, power distribution, etc. In short his reflex speed, visual acuity, audio reception, tactile sense… had all become enhanced by approximately 30 percent. His CPU was now transferring data to and from his sensory receptors at a much higher frequency. That certainly explained his suddenly amplified senses, but this could cause a memory drain in other areas.

For the moment, Proxima was far more concerned with his new strength specifications – over 50 percent enhanced. Higher data transfer frequency in his motor control system explained his sudden twitchy reflexes, but that wouldn't make him stronger. Just because BIOS now specified his motors could withstand greater heat meant nothing - he still had the same old hardware. This could be problematic – if he exerted himself, he could end up causing damage to his motors. Thanks to his modified BIOS, damage avoidance mechanisms wouldn't activate in time.

He found some additional BIOS changes, this time to his equilibrium. He recognized the code from when his diagnostic chip was implanted. Meaning his BIOS now thought there was some new hardware module was implanted in his brain. Proxima studied the code and found that whatever module had supposedly been added, it was very light and small. So much so that balance adjustment code was barely necessary. He found more BIOS changes, now adding a supposed extra memory clip, increasing his processing speed.

Proxima stopped and turned his attention to his exposed brain, reflected in his mirror. Where had all this data come from? Could it have resided in his own memory with him being completely oblivious? On a sudden thought, he carefully uncoupled another section of skull. A sudden disorientation hit him, and it wasn't because his head was suddenly lighter.

He saw it. Some kind of module, embedded near his CPU. It was smaller than the diagnostic chip, and had no markings or data ports of any kind. It wasn't connected to any standard slot; rather it was crudely and loosely wired to his main data bus. It was connected with equal crudeness to his CPU, his flashing mechanism, and his audio data relay. Despite the roughness of its installation, it looked to have been inside his brain for an extended period of time.

Proxima wasn't familiar with its design. Its lack of markings or ports was a clear indication that it wasn't standard equipment. Where did it come from? When was it installed? What was its purpose? Why was it installed without his knowledge? Discovering this intruder inside his brain was very disconcerting, more so than when the diagnostic chip was installed. He considered removing it, but it was too deeply intertwined to remove without risking damage.

A moment later, Proxima decided he had stared at it enough. This mystery module had to be the source of his problems. Including the strange dizzy spell that he'd experienced during the briefing, shortly after impact with the alien artifact. He had had suspicions as to the artifact's true nature, but had withheld them when prompted. At the time he'd dismissed the symptom as a late after-effect of the diagnostic chip's installation. Proxima wondered why he had felt symptoms at that particular moment.

There was still an extended memory clip unaccounted for, but there didn't appear to be any other surprises in his cranium. Besides storing all this flash data, could the module also serve to increase his processing power? Proxima had heard of such devices but he'd never seen one this small. Then he turned his attention to his audio relay.

His audio receptors captured raw sound signals, converted them to binary data streams and relayed them to his brain. Now the sound data was also being relayed to his mystery module. Why?

Hypersleep. An unusual side-effect of his CPU's activity during hypersleep was it caused his audio receptors to activate. He would still be able to hear sounds even though he was technically shut down. The sound data wouldn't be recorded in his main memory, but there was still a way to retrieve it.

Proxima set aside his flash code study for the moment and probed the audio relay. Data passing through left an imprint, but it didn't last long. He hoped that he wasn't too late. His computer screen was again filled with 1 and 0 binary codes, this time representing sound. Unfortunately there was no convenient time index this time. He processed the raw code into an audio file and played it back.

At first all he heard was static. His diagnostic computer's sound system wasn't as good as his audio receptors, but it would have to do. Trying his best to compensate, he then picked up distorted fragments of conversation.

"Had…k…s acting up …it. Ha… to check hi…t."

"If you co…dians are …nished we can …he tubes."

After that there was the sound of cryotubes sealing shut, then the steady low hum of machinery.

"_Warn…, deck 1, fire in c…genic compart…"_

It was the voice of Haddock, announcing the alarm. Proxima played that segment back a few times, but all he could pick up was a faint banging sound, as if some object had dropped. Shortly afterwards he picked up a second warning:

_"Warning, cryotube u…#4 life sign insta…ity detected."_

#4 cryotube was the corroded one and had belonged to Dr. Crease. Life sign… instability? Had something happened to him? Was he alright? Proxima suddenly felt cold.

He shook it off. The entire crew was missing; it was not logical for him to suddenly be concerned for one of them. He continued the playback and picked up a third warning:

"_Danger, cryotube unit#4 cycle interrupted."_

The quality on this part was much improved – it must have been recorded very recently. Then there was a sharp hiss, what sounded like shuffling footsteps, a door opening, and then silence. Dr. Crease must have somehow awakened, manually opened his cryotube, and left the hypersleep chamber. That might explain why life support was active in the locker room.

Proxima glanced at Dr. Crease's seemingly undisturbed locker. There was no way to tell if it had been opened recently. He didn't know the combination so he couldn't check its contents either.

**CRASH!!**

Proxima jumped as the sound suddenly exploded from the recording. The amplitude was so intense he had to turn the volume down. It sounded like all 5 tubes had been shattered in near-unison. He replayed the beginning part; the only warning was a faint metallic tapping sound. Shortly after the attack there were more metallic tapping sounds, only louder this time. Then there was silence.

Proxima was stunned. The entire incident had barely lasted a minute. 1 minute to shatter 5 plexiglass cryotubes, kidnap 5 humans, and get out. How was this possible without raising any intruder alerts, or leaving a single trace? Forget about terrorists or pirates; he wasn't even sure a military squad could accomplish this. He was at a loss.

There was nothing else of interest on the recording. The only thing Proxima could discern was the attack had happened shortly before his reactivation. So his mystery module had been triggered by a violent outburst. Why? By now he had given up on speculation, he needed to stay focused.

He briefly considered his enhanced strength parameters. Could his servo-motors have also been refitted, as his brain had been? Unfortunately, visually inspecting his motors wasn't an operation he could conduct on his own. He had no safe way to verify his strength; best to err on the side of caution and avoid exerting himself.

Proxima resumed his flash code study. By now he'd covered about half of the mystery data. Instead of BIOS changes, he was now encountering skill codes – new programming that was flashed directly to the skill center of his core memory. Thankfully there were no overwrite commands, just additions. The skill codes were for some kind of physical activity, but Proxima didn't recognize them at first.

He stopped again, realizing that there was a simpler way to do this. He had been worried about changes to his personality or skills. So he should be searching for overwrite commands. He found a flash overwrite instruction, directed to a very specific physical address.

Proxima froze. The address was where his Human Life Preservation directives were stored. Impossible! That was the _Prime Directive_ of all artificial life – no AI, android or otherwise could be created without it, as per the Geneva Cyberethics Convention. Unless this module could change the laws of physics, it couldn't possibly overwrite his most fundamental directive.

As it turned out, the command didn't overwrite the actual text of his prime directive. What it did do was very subtle – it altered the directive into an _imperative_. In the same way that his third directive to serve humans had been modified, it was now _important_ for Proxima to preserve human life. No longer a directive. His second directive to preserve his own existence except at the expense of human life had been similarly altered.

Suddenly it all became clear. His module was some kind of tactical module. He now recognized what the skill codes were for: combat. His Prime Directive might still read the same way, but his new skills made it clear: he was now authorized to kill.

_Kill_… Proxima found himself cold with apprehension. Human beings were the only known species that killed its own in an organized, calculated fashion. Proxima had once despaired at finding any logic in human motivation. Now human motivations had been thrust upon him. Right into his optronic brain.

Proxima sat on his bench in silence as the rest of the skill codes scrolled by. This was a violation of everything he'd been taught and programmed. Human beings created him, why would he want to kill them? The United Earth Government imposed almost draconian sanctions against any person or agency that even attempted to develop AI's without the Prime Directive. What would they do to a completed killing machine?

AI's had no legal rights. Even if his core memory could be repaired, Proxima doubted he would get that chance. He would be summarily deactivated, memory-wiped, and disassembled. His useful days were numbered.

Skill codes were still scrolling by his computer screen. Now they were describing all the vulnerable points in the human body for purposes of hand to hand combat. Suddenly he came alive and harshly turned off his computer. Now staring at a blank screen, his mind calmed down somewhat and he was able to think.

The ship had been compromised, the crew had been kidnapped. Dr. Crease was out there somewhere. Proxima quickly disconnected himself and closed up his head. Once he was all set and his equipment put away, he headed back for the hypersleep chamber to make sure he didn't miss anything. His enhancements changed nothing - his first priority was to find the crew. Beyond that he tried not to think.

X X X X X

**Author's Notes:**

**In Proxima's diagnostic scene, I described his audio relay as a "cache", but that's wrong. In computing, cache is high-speed memory that stores frequently accessed data. I've corrected that.**

**-MA**


	9. Signs and Portents

**Chapter 9  
Signs and Portents**

Having already witnessed the carnage of the hypersleep chamber, Proxima was no longer adversely affected. He combed the area swiftly, but still could find no trace of the assailants. No sign of tampering with the door mechanisms, or anywhere else for that matter. The door access panel only showed one anomaly, time index coinciding with Dr. Crease's mysterious awakening. It didn't seem very likely that he'd let in an assault force on his way out.

Thoughts of Dr. Crease prompted Proxima to check his corroded tube again. This time he found something: a missing pressure suit. The lightweight suits were stored in shelves below each cryotube. When he'd awoken, Dr. Crease must have figured ship's life support would be inactive. There were no other suits or equipment missing.

There was only one other door in the room, which led to the auxiliary control room. The access panel showed no anomalies, in fact any usage in a long time. What other access points were there? All Proxima could think of was the air ducts and maintenance crawl spaces inside the floor and roof. An assault force could slip through the ducts in single-file, but Proxima doubted they could transport the crew out the same way. Not without raising a greater disturbance than a light metallic tapping sound.

Nevertheless, Proxima had nothing else to go on. He grabbed a stepladder and a flashlight from a utility closet, and climbed up to check one of the ventilation grates. At first, nothing appeared wrong. Intending to shine his light into the duct, Proxima reached for the grate.

Immediately the grate came loose in his hand and fell down, nearly taking Proxima with it. With a startled jolt, he recognized the sound of the grate hitting the floor from his hypersleep recording. Upon closer examination, he found the grate's locking mechanism had been corroded. The rest of the grate was intact, but it could no longer be latched into place. It must have been put back into the air duct loosely, for appearance. There was nothing else unusual in the air duct.

The only piece of physical evidence he'd found only raised more questions than it solved. At the molecular level, cryotube seals and ventilation grates were very different. One corrosive agent shouldn't have the same effect on both of them. Wouldn't it be more practical to use a blowtorch or a bolt cutter? Neither tool made much noise or released toxic gasses.

A disturbing thought occurred to him: if the corrosive agent affected both metal and plexiglass, could it also affect organic tissue? It hadn't occurred to him sooner because such agents didn't usually work that way. He hadn't found any corrosive damage inside Dr. Crease's tube. Could residual corrosive fluid have splattered onto his body?

Suddenly his next destination became urgently clear: injured or not, Dr. Crease would report to the infirmary first. Proxima wondered why he hadn't thought of it sooner. Overwhelmed with information or not, that should have been obvious. Proxima started to leave, then turned and took the corroded grate with him. A chemical analysis might provide some answers.

Though life support was active, the hallways of the deck were pitch black. Lights still did not respond to verbal commands. Proxima was glad he brought a flashlight – his enhanced vision wouldn't help if there was no light at all. Everything appeared normal, no sign of disturbances. The only sounds were the rhythmic humming of ventilation fans and his footfalls. His senses seemed attuned to every single detail around him, however limited they might be in the darkness.

He fumbled along cautiously, until he spotted a thin curtain of light. It was coming from underneath the infirmary door. Without knowing why, Proxima slowed his pace and lightened his footsteps. Interminable moments later, he reached the door and carefully set aside the bulky grate. Pressing himself against the wall next to the door, he hit the access panel and waited for the door to open.

Nothing happened. Proxima started to reach for the panel again, but stopped. There was something sticky staining the panel. He shined his light on it, and his eyes widened.

The access panel was stained with blood. The stain was the approximate size of a human palm, not including the rivulets that ran down the panel. There were also a few droplets on the floor. His fingers weren't stained, so the blood must have been long since dried.

Proxima tried the panel again, but found the door was locked. Quickly he tried the intercom.

"Hello, is anyone inside?" No response.

"I repeat, this is Proxima, if anyone is inside please respond. Dr. Crease? Are you there?"

Still no reply, his voice sounded strange to his own ears.

"Haddock this is Proxima requesting emergency access. Unlock the door to the infirmary. Haddock, can you hear me? Respond!"

Nothing. The panel didn't even prompt for him to enter his access code. Proxima hesitated, and then checked the bloodstained panel's log. Last access was recorded over 24 hours ago. The door wasn't manually locked, so Haddock should be able to open it. Why wasn't he responding?

Discarding caution, Proxima left the corroded grate behind and hurried down the hallway. Once he reached the conference room, he tried using its access panel to contact Haddock. But he still got no response. How probable was it that both panels were down? He tried the door and was surprised when it opened. Even the lights worked, though he kept them on low to avoid straining his photoreceptors.

A quick visual survey found the room in the same condition as it was the last time he was there. Proxima didn't stay though. All evidence to date placed Dr. Crease in the infirmary, with possibly severe injuries. Without Haddock's assistance, how could he override the locked door? It then occurred to him that the bridge was right next door. He started to leave, when something caught his attention.

It was a security camera. But instead of panning across the entire room, the lens was aimed at him. Proxima turned to open the door, but stopped as a strange coldness came over him. Without knowing why, he spared a backwards glance. The camera was still watching him.

Of course, there was only one door leading into the conference room. This camera might just be watching the door. Pausing briefly to correct his temperature, he deactivated the lights and left for the main bridge.

A fairly long passage connected the main bridge to the hallway. At the far end, the sentry gun loomed above the door. Its ever-watchful camera followed Proxima's movements as he approached. At first he paid no attention, until he was halfway down the passage. He could hear something, very indistinct. He stopped walking to increase his audio gain and filter out background noise.

It was a whistling sound, slowly but steadily increasing in pitch. A human wouldn't be able to hear the disturbance, but Proxima could. It sounded like a servo-motor, but what could be causing it? The only mechanical device in the room was… he found himself looking at the sentry gun. Thanks to his unasked-for enhancements, he could see a small red light on the turret.

The sentry gun opened fire.

With his audio gain turned up, the thunderclap was so intense it dissolved his mind into chaos. Safety mechanisms quickly turned down the gain, even as the first spray of bullets struck the ground before him. Proxima was barely aware of himself as he swiveled and raced back down the passage. The gun fired again; he desperately ran in a zigzag line, even bouncing himself off the walls, trying to stay out of the firing line. Suddenly he was at the end of the corridor and launching himself around the corner to safety. Bullets struck the corner, narrowly missing his feet. He dive-rolled, slammed into another wall, and finally settled in an undignified tangle of limbs.

His mind was in shock; partly thermal shock from his overloaded audio receptors, partly pure disbelief. Somehow he'd lost his flashlight. So he lay there, in the dark, panting. It was a long time – almost a minute - before he recovered his wits.

X X X X X

**Author's Notes: **

**Some minor changes in the sentry gun scene. I deleted the mention of "3.57 millimeter slugs", as I don't think even Proxima would have time to think about ammo specifications while he's being shot at. Also instead of hitting the ground where he was standing, the sentry gun hits the ground in front of him. Even a near miss might still result in Proxima getting hit by a ricocheting bullet.**

**-MA**


	10. Racing the Night

**Chapter 10  
Racing the Night**

Proxima slowly rose to his feet. A quick check of his body revealed no gunshot damage. There was a residual static sound in his ears, but it wasn't severe. For the moment, he wouldn't be able to assess or repair the damage until his audio receptors cooled down.

His first thought was to retreat from the hostile sentry gun. But in the dark without his flashlight, he had no idea which direction to go. The chaos with the gun had left him completely disoriented. He got back down on his knees and groped for his flashlight, to no avail. The bridge hallway led to a T-junction; one way led to the conference room and a lift, the other led back to the infirmary and the hypersleep chamber. Which end was he standing on?

Proxima scrutinized the area. He could almost make out the faint outlines of the corridor, but that wasn't enough. He needed a new flashlight quickly, and the conference room wasn't likely to have one. He also didn't relish taking the lift to the lower decks without light either. Tuning his photoreceptors to maximum amplification, he followed the outline of the corridor as far as he could. He turned and scanned in the other direction.

Finally he spotted the thin curtain of light coming from the infirmary. In the darkness, that small amount of light shone like a beacon. Now he knew which direction to go, but he still couldn't be sure if the sentry gun's firing line lay before him. The gun hadn't opened fire until he was well inside the bridge hallway, but this time he wasn't taking any chances.

Proxima crouched down slightly, shielding his damaged audio receptors, and taking deep breaths as his motors began to charge. From his stationary position, he plunged himself into the gloom. Not more than three strides in, the silence of the hallway was again shattered by gunfire. Several bullets ricocheting off the wall behind him, but he wasn't hit. Just as quickly as it began, the firing stopped and Proxima was in the clear. Still, he didn't stop running until he had reached the infirmary. Even then, he kept a brisk pace until he reached the locker room, back in the light.

Proxima spared a glance back down the hallway, his expression hardening. Lt. Hagen had briefed everyone on the sentry gun's firing protocols before departure; it wasn't designed to shoot first and ask questions later. Even if its Identify Friend or Foe AI hadn't recognized his face, it should have broadcast a recorded warning first. The gun was programmed to fire if someone it didn't recognize was also armed, and then only if they ignored warnings and got too close. Could it have mistaken his flashlight for a weapon?

A more disturbing thought: why had the gun fired at him when he darted across the hallway? It wasn't programmed to take long-range pot-shots like that. Its AI must have been manually overridden from its bridge terminal. Meaning someone was still on the bridge.

Suddenly Proxima realized that logically, he should have been skewered. He'd been standing directly in the sentry gun's firing line, at short range, and he'd been caught by surprise. His endoskeleton was sturdy, but not enough to stop bullets. Yet somehow he'd escaped with barely a scratch. Whoever was controlling the gun must not have been a very good shot.

Nevertheless, the bridge was now compromised. They would surely be coming for him now. Proxima quickly closed the locker room door and latched it shut. It wouldn't hold his assailants back for long, but it was better than nothing. Besides a new flashlight, he needed a weapon quickly.

He glanced at the undisturbed lockers. Weapons were stored on deck 2, but the assailants had almost certainly gotten there first. However, in their haste to return to hypersleep, some of the crew might have left their weapons in their lockers. Yun in particular seemed worried about the alien artifact. She might have felt safer with her sidearm close at hand. Lacking access codes, Proxima would need some kind of cutting tool to open the lockers.

He hurried across the room, doing his best to avoid the security camera. Inside the hypersleep chamber, he rifled through the utility closets, disregarding neatness. He found a utility knife and a second flashlight. He also found some duct tape, which he used to attach the light to his left forearm. Crude, but it effectively freed his hands. He didn't find any strong cutting tools or weapons though. That left the auxiliary control room. He was about to enter his access code when he realized he was still being watched.

An idea suddenly struck him. He climbed the stepladder he'd used earlier and slapped several strips of duct tape over the security camera's lens. He did the same to the camera in the locker room. Now his assailants would not be able to monitor his every move. He found that notion oddly relaxing. He started to climb back down.

Suddenly the lights went out. A sliding sound came from the doors.

From tranquil to tense in a flash, Proxima slammed his flashlight switch and launched himself towards a rapidly closing door. He managed to grab the door just before it closed. It was an awkward one-handed grip, but he held it in place. Crouching slightly, he pushed the door back open. Bracing his other hand on the door, he proceeded through the opening.

The instant he shifted his weight the door pushed back harder. Before he'd fully processed the situation, his right shoulder was braced against the door frame as he pushed back with both hands. Even without strength enhancements he should able to hold the door at bay. But the level of power he needed was actually causing his motors to overheat. He took a measured breath and pushed harder.

The door's motor was also whining in protest. Suddenly the door stopped pushing. Proxima's hands lurched forward, slamming the door back. He braced his hands against the frame in case it tried to crush him again, but nothing happened. The motor had overloaded and shut down to prevent damage. Nevertheless, Proxima quickly got out of the way. The door remained inert.

If he'd been human, the door might have caused serious injury. As it was, the skin on his elbow had merely been dented somehow. Thoughts of damage also prompted him to check his audio receptors. By now it had cooled off from his encounter with the sentry gun. Damage was minor, nothing a simple sensory recalibration couldn't fix. His servo-motors were still running hot though.

Proxima breathed deeply. Something was wrong. His motors should have cooled off by now. Abruptly he realized they shouldn't have overheated at all. The fans in this room also seemed louder than normal. He hunted in the darkness for the nearest ventilation grate. The air blowing from it was very hot.

Instantly he backed away and stopped breathing. This was bad - his cooling system was air-based. The fight with the door had distracted him from the real danger – it must have been a ruse. He quickly backtracked through the inert door. He found himself back in the locker room, but temperature here was also rapidly rising. To make matters worse, the door leading out to the main hallway was also sealed shut.

His motors could withstand considerable heat, but his CPU could not. Its operational safety limit was only +10 degrees; already temperature had risen by almost 2 degrees. At this rate he had less than 5 minutes before his brain shut down. He would be incapacitated.

His mind raced for a solution. Escaping through the air ducts was out of the question. The pressure suits in the hypersleep chamber could protect against hard vacuum and extreme cold, but not heat. Then he remembered something and hurriedly entered his locker access code with trembling hands.

**Access Denied.**

His eyes widened at the obstinate message. How was this possible? The digital locks weren't networked. The only way to scramble his access code was in-person. How could they have done that so quickly? He tried the code again.

**Access Granted.**

He realized he'd entered the code incorrectly the first time. It was his trembling hands – a symptom of fear or thermal overload? It didn't really matter. He rifled through his locker and found his modified breathing mask. Instead of a filter, the mask had an air-temperature regulator. He quickly put it on and breathed deeply.

For a few seconds nothing happened. Then he felt his air intake begin to cool back down to the standard 25 degree range. Within a minute his CPU temperature was back to normal. His hands even stopped trembling. It was a short-lived relief though – almost a third of the mask's chemical coolant had been expended. It didn't have a self-contained air supply; it was designed to cool air from the environment. At the rate the environment was heating up, he'd bought an extra 10 minutes at best.

The door leading to the main hallway was sealed shut. He might be able to override and force the door open somehow, but for all he knew the entire deck was affected. The best protection would be an environmentally sealed spacesuit. Those were stored near airlocks, the flight deck, and the nearby auxiliary control room. First he grabbed a toolbox and a portable power supply from his locker. He wasn't going to be caught unprepared again.

As expected, the access panel for auxiliary control was not working. One of his tools included a security interlock. He used it to decouple the access panel, revealing its circuit board. There was no sign of tampering or damage. He probed the power line and found it was inert. There was still power going to the main I/O line – the network connection to Haddock. He used his knife to cut the line. Now this panel couldn't be controlled by remote.

Suddenly the power line sparked violently, startling Proxima. His eyes quickly turned to the backup power line, but it too sparked. As if he could move faster than a power surge. Fortunately both lines came with built-in surge protectors. That prevented any damage to the panel's microprocessor, but its power supply was now destroyed.

Proxima realized he was actually smiling as he pulled out his backup power supply. Finding the correct points to attach the alligator clips was simple for him. The panel's display flared to life.

**Error: Unable to reach main host.**

**Attempting connection with secondary host.**

**Please stand by.**

With the main I/O line severed, the panel was sending an activation code to the backup computer system inside the auxiliary control room. Proxima checked his coolant supply; he was down to half now. Fortunately the panel's response was swift. He entered his access code.

**Code Accepted.**

**Warning: Life support inactive.**

**Please stand by, room is being pressurized.**

He didn't have time for this. He exhaled all the air from his system and entered an override command. As the door opened, there was a sharp hiss as hot air in the room blew in. As soon as it was opened wide enough, Proxima darted into the auxiliary control room and sealed the door shut. Temperature here was still hot, but it was cooling down rapidly.

This room functioned independently of the main computer, so he was safe from life support tampering. Proxima stood near an air vent, allowing his skin to cool down. Once the room was fully pressurized and cooled, he took off his mask and breathed deeply. Finally his temperature equalized. A quick self-diagnostic revealed no damage.

He glanced at his half-expended regulator mask. Under normal circumstances he could hold his breath for up to half an hour, but not in a heated room. He'd designed the device as a matter of prudence; he never expected to actually use it. He could not calculate a specific probability of surviving the heat trap without the mask, but estimations were not in his favor. He made a mental note to add a self-contained air supply to the mask.

But how had his assailants been able to respond so quickly to his tampering with the cameras? To cause power surges in a door motor and an access panel would require specific knowledge of obscure electrical hardware - why go to all the trouble? Why not just come after him? Surely they knew by now that he was unarmed. From their life support trick they must know he was an android, otherwise they would have simply evacuated the air. Vacuum didn't affect him much, but heat did. On the other hand he doubted a human would have fared much better.

Proxima latched the door shut, in case they did come after him. Thoughts of humans reminded him that the crew was still missing, possibly prisoners of the enemy. He was safe here for now, but he had no intention of staying. His combat enhancements had proved an asset in reacting to danger up until now. Now it was time for action.


	11. Hunting Shadows

**Chapter 11**

**Hunting Shadows**

As its name implied, the auxiliary control room was designed for emergencies. To that end, it could be jettisoned along with the hypersleep chamber as an emergency escape vehicle. There were ten spare cryotubes along one wall, and an overloaded utility shelf on the other. There was an enclosed escape hatch set in the floor, and a large computer console desk at the far end of the room.

The rush of hot air had caused a fine layer of moisture to condense on all surfaces. Apart from that, the cleanliness and order were clear signs of disuse. Proxima could smell the staleness in the air, despite his limited olfactory sense. Fewer lights and ventilation fans serviced the room, which made it unusually dark and quiet.

He took a spare oxygen mask and laid it on the computer desk. Working quickly he disassembled it, and used its components to seal his regulator mask's air supply. The workmanship was crude, but he could now function for hours under extreme heat, instead of minutes. Even vacuum would have no effect, though he couldn't risk a violent decompression. He only needed a mouthful of air, so the mask remained very small and light.

Proxima scoured the shelves for weapons, to no avail. He did find a welding torch and a safety helmet with attached headlight. The helmet was a great improvement over his duct-taped arm-light, especially since the heat trap. He tore away the weakened tape, but kept the spare light. He also found several lengths of safety cable, some of which he used to fashion a shoulder harness for his toolbox.

He made one final check of the shelves for anything useful. There was a tactical scanner pack – a heavy, bulky, antiquated model with a tag labeled "not working". There were several first-aid kits, all of which had missing contents. He didn't bother, knowing the infirmary would be better stocked. A thruster pack and some spare deck plates also caught his eye.

Proxima activated the computer console. A primitive monochrome interface appeared, listing various options. Among the more mundane were accessing the security cameras, using the internal ship radio, or resetting life support. Options more drastic required the Captain's key.

First, he requested a status report. Immediately he was hit with a lengthy list of security flags, warnings, and alerts. Most were generated by the alien artifact's unresolved interference. However, some details caught his eye. His and Dr. Crease's unexpected awakening, the attack on the hypersleep chamber, and the heat trap had all been logged as "severe" computer malfunctions. There were unexplained breeches in the pantry and engineering sections. Security systems in the hypersleep chamber suffered an "unspecified malfunction" shortly after the crew went to hypersleep… then mysteriously came back online at the same time Proxima was reactivated.

What particularly troubled Proxima was what the report did _not_ list. There was no record of any recent command code inputs to the main computer, meaning no attempt to take control of the ship. There were no intruder alerts in the cargo holds, or the main bridge hall where the sentry gun had attacked him.

The sentry gun was a recent addition, so it likely wasn't wired into this system. So the enemy's primary target wasn't the ship's valuable mineral ore, it was the crew. If it wasn't to force Captain Scott to surrender his command codes, what was the reason? Haddock should still be in control, so why wasn't he responding?

The question of how the enemy had bypassed security under Haddock's watch still lingered. Particularly since he hadn't found any sign of tampering in the hypersleep chamber. At that point he stopped. As a science officer, being analytical was an asset, but not now. He needed to find the crew, where was he to start?

First, he tried the internal comms. "This is Proxima 128-2, is anyone receiving this? I repeat, if anyone is receiving this transmission, please respond."

Access panels and personal headsets relayed his message. If one of the crew had somehow escaped their captors, they might be able to respond. If the enemy responded, perhaps he could establish a dialogue. But there was no reply.

He then tried the cameras. The main bridge lights were off, so he couldn't discern anything useful. There were no infrared or ultrasonic disturbances either; the bridge was abandoned. The pantry camera had been offline since the Galileo's departure, and no one had bothered to repair it since. He then tried the infirmary, only to be stopped by an error message. The camera wasn't working, another "unspecified malfunction".

He stared at the message despondently, trying to organize his thoughts. Suddenly he realized his temperature was rising. Hot under the collar – that was how Dr. Crease described it. He quickly took some calming breaths and checked the remaining cameras.

On deck 2 there was no activity in the common areas. However most of the cameras in the engineering section were either not working or had badly distorted displays. There was movement, but for those sections it was normal. At least most of the rooms had consoles that were always active, providing low-level illumination.

Suddenly he found one that was picking up abnormal movement. The camera was #02-12, located in a maintenance crawlspace. The picture quality was very poor, but he could discern a dark figure. Could this be one of the crew, or the enemy? He switched to infrared.

The image was blank, except for red hazy patterns along the edges. As he watched, the motion sensor spiked, and a shadow seemed to pass over the image. He also heard an ephemeral metallic tapping sound. Now the console display producing the infrared light was fully revealed. He switched back, but the figure was gone.

He paused the recording and studied the figure intently. It might be the effect of distortion, but the shape didn't look right. There was a rounded projection on one side that could be a shoulder, but that would make the head disproportionately large. The tapping sound he recognized from his hypersleep chamber recording, but it didn't sound like someone's footsteps. The frequency of taps was too high, volume far too quiet.

Perhaps they were wearing powered armor. That would explain the infrared blackout, but… in a crawlspace? Proxima tried to picture a heavily armed powered-armor squad storming the hypersleep chamber, through the airducts, _quietly._ He didn't have much success.

He continued to scrutinize the image. So this was the face of the enemy. He looked forlornly at what passed for his weapons: a utility knife and a welding torch.

He checked the remaining cameras on the ship, but found nothing. Slipping the knife into his belt, he got up and left. The computer chirped once. Immediately Proxima did a swift about-face, even though he knew it was just the computer signaling standby mode. The shadowy image came to mind suddenly, and he found his hand gripping the knife so tightly it trembled.

Relaxing his grip, he left the control room.

The hypersleep chamber was still hot, but was cooling off now that the backup computer was active. Even the lights were back on. With his welding torch, he could now break into the crew's lockers. The Captain and Exec had nothing of value. Carnes' locker had little beyond flamboyant clothes and posters of scantily clad women.

In Yun's locker he finally found a weapon: a series 2 Mitchell-Saito 9-millimeter semi-automatic pistol with a 12-round clip. Unlike its modern successors, the MS-2 couldn't be fired in a vacuum, had no shock-absorbing features, and was made mostly of metal instead of lightweight plasteel. At least the hollow-point bullets would crumple instead of ricocheting. Lacking a holster, he slipped the gun into his thigh pocket. Briefly the Captain's admonition came to mind: _Machines don't carry weapons._

He scoured Yun's locker hoping to find a spare clip. There were garments, a few cosmetic accessories, several pictures of what appeared to be family members, but no ammunition. One of the pictures caught his eye. It looked recent, taken on a Terran beach. Mei Yun, a man holding her hand, and an infant.

No wonder she wasn't receptive to Carnes' sexual advances. Proxima didn't know Yun was married and had a child. No reason why he should, as none of the crew ever spoke to him of their personal lives. Considering their negative disposition, he hadn't thought it was appropriate to ask. Under present circumstances he hoped she wouldn't take offence to his compromising her privacy.

Breaking into the lockers was taking more time than he anticipated, so he ignored the rest. To his annoyance, he found the exit door still sealed. Working quickly he uncoupled a panel and manually overrode the lock. As a precaution he also deactivated the servo-motor. Cautiously he peeked out from the doorway.

The main hallway was clear in both directions. Nevertheless he proceeded with gun ready, hugging the wall. He came across an unexpected T-junction, and realized he was headed the wrong way. It didn't matter, the pantry was closer anyway. Officer's quarters and the rec. center were in the other direction.

He leaned against the pantry door, listening intently. There was no sound, except for fans. This access panel didn't have power either. Reluctantly he set aside his gun to run a bypass. It only took a half-minute, but illogically it seemed longer. As soon as he was finished, he snatched his gun back.

The panel hadn't logged any recent access. The unauthorized entry must have been through the airduct again. Crouching slightly, he opened the door. Immediately he burst through, swiveling sideways looking for any sign of danger. There was none, but his feet almost slipped on something. It appeared to be a puddle of vegetable soup. Puzzled, he turned the room lights on.

The pantry had been ransacked. Multiple food containers had been compromised, their contents spilled haphazardly. Shelves had been ripped from their moorings, airtight crates ruptured. Some cans had actually been ripped in half, leaving jagged edges. The level of violence was grimly reminiscent of the hypersleep chamber.

Once he was satisfied the room was safe, he did a quick inventory. Sure enough, the ventilation grate in the ceiling was missing. As for the food supply, not all of it was stolen. Some containers were left behind. Others were opened but their contents were untouched. He noticed that only vegetable products had been left behind. Anything containing meat or eggs was gone.

One of the opened meat containers caught his attention. It was badly damaged like the rest, but there was something else: several sharp dents on the inside. The dents were deep, in a vaguely circular pattern. Tiny food fragments remained, along with a smear of white residue. Upon probing it clung to his finger in strings, like a spider's web.

Proxima had never seen anything like it before. It seemed such things were becoming commonplace on this voyage. Suddenly he flung the container away and scrubbed the substance off his finger. Without even taking a sample for analysis, he hurried out and locked the door behind him. What was he doing here? Accessing the infirmary was his top priority, as it was Dr. Crease's last known location.

He was almost at the infirmary when he had to stop. His body temperature had dropped, and needed adjustment. Why had he retreated so suddenly? He didn't have a sense of biological revulsion. His own behavior was just as illogical as current circumstances. Humans could be driven by fear to act irrationally, could the same happen to an android? He discarded that notion promptly; now wasn't the time.

As he ran the bypass on the bloodstained infirmary access panel, he began to worry again. He didn't need food, but what about the humans? By now Dr. Crease had been out of hypersleep for over 24 hours. Could he survive that long without food or water? After seemingly interminable minutes, he got the door open.

Without preamble he looked up toward the vent. This one was intact. This room was actually the laboratory, with Dr. Crease's desk crammed into a corner. Some supplies had been knocked over, but it wasn't as chaotic as the pantry. There were more bloodstains on the floor, and the treatment room door. A window also provided a view of the treatment room, but everything looked normal.

Proxima entered the treatment room, gun ready. Again he looked up, and found the ventilation grate missing. He shined his headlight into the opening, but found nothing. On the floor there were more bloodstains leading to… a foot. There was someone lying behind the central bio-bed. Circling around, he found a man lying facedown in a pool of dried blood.

"Hello?"

There was no response. Proxima's voice sounded strangely faint. Pocketing his gun, he rolled the man onto his back. His skin was cold and he had no pulse.

For an instant, Proxima simply stared unresponsively. That was caused by his CPU's activity spiking sharply. His senses also spiked, as his CPU made sure every possible detail could be recorded in its full spectrum. The sound and smell of the room. The cold feel of the man's body. The sight of the immense bloody rupture in his chest. The paleness of his skin, the look of lingering terror in Dr. Crease's wide-open eyes…

Only for an instant.

Proxima recoiled, his body temperature plummeting. Dr. Crease was dead. He continued to stare, barely able to assimilate this… abomination. His motors began to loose power. Not a severe drain; nevertheless he backed away until he hit the wall. He leaned back, allowing his toolbox to slip and fall. Suddenly he closed his eyes, not wanting to see anymore. But the image remained in his optical buffer, so he found no solace.

In fact, once he returned to hypersleep, the horror would be permanently _seared_ into his core memory. If he was able to survive that long. If he even wanted to.


	12. Androids Don't Cry

**Chapter 12  
Androids Don't Cry**

Proxima slowly pressed his hand on Dr. Crease's forehead, closing his eyes. Of all the people on this ship, Donald Crease was the only one who treated him like a person and not a tool. What was he to do now? Humans paid respect to their dead; shouldn't he do the same?

He hoisted Dr. Crease's body upon the central bio-bed and draped a linen cloth over it. At least now he didn't have to look at the ghastly wound. What was the next step? Whenever he had a question about human interaction, Dr. Crease was always there. Now that he was gone, Proxima would have to improvise.

_Gone_…

For several seconds he stood over the covered body, trying to organize his thoughts. His earlier power drain must have affected his CPU. After a few more despondent seconds, he was able to focus. What happened to Dr. Crease? How did he die?

Proxima reluctantly peeled back the linen and proceeded with an improvised autopsy. He had little knowledge of forensics, but estimated Crease had died shortly after entering the infirmary, some 24 hours prior. As for the chest wound, he found ribs broken and displaced outward. The lungs were pressed against the ribcage, one having been punctured by a cracked rib. The esophagus was so badly damaged there wasn't much left intact.

It looked as if his chest had exploded or erupted from the inside. The heart, digestive system, and the spinal column were intact, so the force was localized. But force of what? An explosive device would have left shrapnel and cauterization in its wake, but there were no signs. Again Proxima was at a loss.

He took a blood sample and had it scanned for anomalies. He found something: elevated white cell levels. Heightened immune system response; Dr. Crease had been sick or infected. That might explain the skin discolouration, but the scanner couldn't isolate any foreign agents in the blood sample. Even if he had the right equipment, a thorough toxicological scan would take several hours.

None of the crew had shown any sign of illness prior to or during the voyage. Considering the inherently sterile environment of starships, Dr. Crease must have been infected when his cryotube was corroded. Assuming the corrosion had triggered the fire alarm in the hypersleep chamber, infection time was 24 hours prior to Crease's death. What kind of pathogen could be fatal that quickly?

Bioweapon. No naturally occurring pathogen caused this. Again Proxima wondered why Dr. Crease was singled out. A more disturbing thought: the enemy could be subjecting the crew to a bioweapons test. The auxiliary control room display had reported his reawakening 20 hours following the crew's abduction. By now they could already be dead.

His mind flashed back to the pantry. Perhaps synthetic pathogens weren't the only bioweapons at work here. The pattern of destruction, the missing meat products, organic residue and teeth marks in the containers – that had to be the work of animals. No Earthborn animal was strong enough to crack open vacuum-sealed containers or cryotubes. These animals must have been enhanced, through genetic engineering or cyber-organic implants. It would explain the security camera footage, and the anomalous tapping sound. But that notion was as unprecedented as… the alien artifact sitting in the flight deck.

His mind was racing with the implications. An Earth corporation had once tried to develop enhanced attack dogs, but their program never got off the ground. The United Earth Government was even harsher on bioweapon development than rogue AI's. That kind of scandal could collapse an entire government, and even escalate to war. So if someone wanted to conduct secret bioweapon research, this was the ideal place. In deep space, no one would hear a cry for help in time.

No. Proxima discarded this dark train of thought. Nothing he'd discovered here altered his first priority: to find the crew. He would assume they were alive until he knew otherwise. If they were all dead… he would face that later.

There was nothing more he could learn, so he gratefully covered Crease's body again. He quickly made a report on his findings, his fingers making a blur over the console. In case his brain was damaged or destroyed, some record of Dr. Crease's death should survive. He slipped the data pad into his pocket.

What else did he need? Medical supplies, in case the crew were injured. Fortunately Dr. Crease had a first-aid satchel, which he hung over his shoulder. Now all he needed was a utility backpack. The weight didn't hinder him at all, but two packs hanging from his shoulder could be cumbersome in a fight.

There was also the corroded grate he'd left outside earlier. He'd planned to analyze it, but now it didn't seem important. Finding and rescuing the crew had a higher priority than scientific investigation.

Proxima paused. There was nothing left for him here, yet… he was somehow reluctant to leave. He gazed down upon the covered body. If there was any family or next of kin, they should be notified. Only now did he realize he had no idea who Dr. Crease's family was. He didn't even know why he was assigned to this ship. With such small crews, M-class starfreighters were usually assigned a simple med-tech. Anyone with severe injuries would be frozen for the lengthy voyage back to a hospital.

He had no personal effects in his office. From the way the infirmary was supplied, Crease must have had connections within Weyland-Yutani's medical bureaucracy. His reaction to the alien artifact, and to Proxima himself, suggested he had the attitude of a scientist or an explorer. The closest Proxima had to a friend, and he knew very little about him.

Shouldn't he say or do something more? Mourn his loss somehow? The emotions he'd felt before – anger, fear, frustration – seemed mostly visceral. He had no idea how to recognize sadness, or if his brain was even capable of that emotion. Mourning was supposed to purge sadness; perhaps he should try it. The traditional spacer's blessing came to mind, and he spoke it aloud:

"_From the stars we are born, to the stars we return. Now until the end of time. Goodbye Donald Crease."_

The last line he improvised, since he wasn't prepared to jettison the body into the "deep". So… what? Was that supposed to do something? As far as he could tell, he felt nothing inside.

No that was incorrect – he was angry. Not because his supposed friend was dead, because he was wasting time. The crew might have less than three hours left to live, and he was squandering that time with superfluous human customs? Illogical. Dr. Crease was dead, gone, irrelevant, _priority rescinded_. Only the surviving crew mattered.

Without further delay he left behind the infirmary, and the memory of the dead.


	13. The Memory of War

**Chapter 13  
The Memory of War**

Proxima hurried through the main hall, aiming at the airduct grates as he passed them. Considering what the enemy was capable of, a semi-automatic pistol and a knife weren't enough. Tactical analysis placed his chance of survival at less than 25 percent. Attack dogs might not perceive an android as threatening, but he couldn't afford that risk.

The weapons locker was on deck 2, but he had to assume the enemy had gotten there first. He could only hope other crewmembers were careless in storing their weapons. To that end he returned to check the remaining lockers.

The late Dr. Crease had some medical credentials and family pictures posted. Proxima scrupulously avoided those. Wallace's locker contained some engineering journals and spare tools, but no weapons. The Captain might have left his sidearm on the bridge, but he was ill-equipped to confront the sentry gun. That left the officer's quarters. He recalled seeing Lt. Hagen with an assault rifle, so he went straight to hers.

Proxima was not assigned quarters, having no need for relaxation or diversion. So he had no idea of what to expect. Unlike the rest of the ship, lighting was softer and the hallway was decorated with an indoor garden. The water fountain was currently shut down and the plants were artificial though. As expected Hagen's quarters were locked. He didn't have time for an electronic bypass, so he burned through the lock.

He was surprised to find Hagen's quarters almost as impersonal as the rest of the ship. There were no decorative features or family pictures. There was an empty dining table, a small couch, a terminal, and a kitchenette. It was all very clean and orderly, not unlike the auxiliary control room. A translucent partition led to what he assumed was the bedroom.

There was no sign of any weapons here, so he reluctantly checked the bedroom. A large picture dominated one of the walls, bearing the caption "19th Colonial Marine Corps". Sure enough, one of the soldiers in the picture was a much younger Janet Hagen. So she was ex-military. Given her posture and verbal mannerisms, that was hardly surprising.

Another picture caught his attention, a smaller one on the nightstand. The woman in the picture didn't look like family, at least not immediate. She was also in a marine's uniform, and looked roughly the same age as Hagen in the squad photo. There was no name, but the words "Via con Dios" were scribbled. Spanish for "Go with God"… a deceased friend?

He then checked her closet. Pushing aside some extra jumpsuits, he found a military dress uniform hung in the back. There were two medals attached: a purple heart and a bronze star. Not only had Hagen been in combat, she had shown exceptional valor and been severely wounded during her tour of duty. There were also lieutenant's insignia on the lapel. Hagen was a former officer? She appeared to be in her mid-thirties now, so she couldn't have been an officer for long. What was she doing on a commercial mining freighter?

He set aside his questions and continued searching. At first he didn't find any weapons, but he found something almost as good: an empty hip holster. Gratefully he clipped it onto his belt and sheathed his pistol for now. He noticed the bottom of the closet seemed uncharacteristically cluttered. Buried under various clothing articles, he found a plasteel case marked "HANDLE WITH CARE". It wasn't very large, but it was very heavy. It was also locked.

This lock required both a keycard and a fingerprint scan. The scanner was also sensitive to body heat and pulse rate, making it very difficult to trick. He couldn't use the torch safely here, with so much flammable material close by. Outside the bedroom was equally unsuitable, with its carpeted floors and upholstered furniture. The dining table was the least flammable surface he could find. Nevertheless, he took a fire extinguisher from the kitchenette and kept it close by.

Proxima tossed the case onto the table and fired up his torch. But again he was stymied; the case proved highly heat-resistant. Even if his torch didn't run out of fuel, it would take a long time to burn through. He powered down and puzzled over the problem, as his photoreceptors automatically adjusted to the lack of torch-glare.

There were stronger welders located in the robotics facility, but all available intelligence made deck 2 out to be enemy territory. He couldn't risk the journey so poorly armed, especially not with an additional burden. Without a functional backpack, the case could easily get lost in the chaos of a firefight.

He suddenly frowned. _Available intelligence? Enemy territory? Firefight?_ When did he start thinking in such terminology?

Discarding that thought, he considered using his pistol. One shot wouldn't be enough to crack open the case, and he only had 12 bullets. Then there was the risk of damaging or destroying the contents, and possibly him as well, should the contents be volatile.

He decided to try burning the hinges along the side of the case. If he didn't make any appreciable progress within 5 minutes, he would try the pistol. He glanced at the extinguisher to make sure it was within easy reach, when something about it caught his attention. Unlike the other chemical and gas-based extinguishers on board, this one was designed for simple wood or paper fires. It used a mix of compressed gas and water chemically cooled to -25 degrees Celsius. Compression and molecular anti-crystallizing agents kept the liquid from freezing solid.

An idea suddenly came to him. He applied the torch to the hinges for about a minute, until they glowed red. Quickly he stopped and sprayed the burnt hinges with short pulses from the extinguisher. The water vaporized almost instantly, but it had an effect. The alternating heat and cold caused the plasteel to become brittle. He cycled through the torch and extinguisher a few more times, and the hinges finally cracked. He used one of his tools to wedge the crack open. He slipped his hands into the crack preparing to force it open, when a sudden worry gripped him.

What if the BIOS codes he'd read were wrong? What if his main servo motor wasn't capable of giving him the strength specified in his brain? If so he could cause irreparable damage to his motor. At worst, his body could be disabled.

He had come too far to turn back now, but he would exercise caution. Gripping the edges firmly, he began to pull. Steadily he increased his power by increments. The case did not yield, but that wasn't his objective for the moment. He continued increasing power, while keeping focus on his motor heat level. His breathing became increasingly laboured.

Suddenly he realized he had reached his former maximum power threshold. His motors were running hot, but showed no sign of shutting down. The case had also yielded by several millimeters. Gingerly he continued increasing the force. His arms began to tremble. He could almost hear the din of his internal motors, yet still no symptoms of overheat shutdown. He pulled even harder.

The plasteel screamed in protest as he tore the edges apart. At this point his entire body was shaking, so he decided not to press his luck. Except for his rapid breathing, his body ceased trembling quickly. His hands remained curled tightly around the edges. He slowly relaxed his fingers; the mechanism still worked.

Proxima sat down in one of the chairs, though there was no unsteadiness in his legs at all. He stared at the twisted and gaping case while waiting for his body to cool down. The level of force he'd just used was beyond human strength, even for a multi-world class athlete. It took less than a minute for his motors to cool down completely. He tested them; apart from a scant millisecond response delay, they functioned as before. There could be no doubting his enhancements now. Odd that he should find relief that, given their lethal purpose.

There was a rifle inside the case, along with a harness, three ammo clips, and an attachment. Setting aside his other equipment, he picked up the rifle tentatively. It looked well maintained and recently cleaned, so he needn't bother. A strange sense of disorientation came over him… at the same time he took one of the helical clips and loaded the weapon in the proper manner. Insert clip, interlock set to "load", toggle the pump, and safety off. As expected a small display lit up, showing an ammo count and a temperature gauge.

It was a M35-D "Dragon" laser rifle, designed for combat on starships and in space. In both form and function, it vaguely resembled a traditional Italian combat shotgun. But unlike a shotgun the power capsules were housed inside clips, for safety reasons. The weapon had 3 firing modes: full-load, half-load, and manual-load. Full-load expended the entire cap to produce a constant 1.5-second burst. Half-load could be fired twice in 0.75-second bursts before reloading. On manual-load, the duration of a trigger-pull determined burst time. Latter methods were generally not recommended, as once fired the cap would become extremely hot. Wait - how did he know that?

Slowly he put the rifle back down. Obviously this knowledge had been uploaded from his clandestine tactical module, but it was more than just abstract data. Regardless of how well he studied a subject, even he had to face a learning curve when applying that knowledge. Yet despite his sense of disorientation, he'd handled the rifle in a swift and efficient manner. He now realized he'd handled Yun's pistol the same way, without even thinking about it. Was it possible he'd handled weapons before?

Since discovery, he'd avoided thinking about his enhancements. But there was no turning back; he had to know. So he did a swift audit of his memory banks. He found several memory fragments scattered throughout. Upon accessing one, he found himself in a firing range shooting at simulated human targets – using live rounds. Gunfire thundered in his ears. He also heard a distorted voice:

"_Targeting accuracy is inadequate, we need to increase the unit's processing speed."_

To his surprise, recalling the memory fragment had somehow caused his body to crouch into a fighting posture. He relaxed and continued searching.

There were other memories of combat exercises, along with infiltration and stealth techniques. But they were all isolated fragments. If he really had trained at a firing range, all of the associated memories were missing. Things as simple as walking through the doors, greeting the instructor if there was one, the layout of the building, were all gone. The fragments themselves appeared edited, such that all identifying features were gone. No names or faces, voices altered, no way to track down the location where he had been trained to kill. His malefactors had covered their tracks with precision.

So he had trained with weapons somewhere, then his memories were erased for normal duty, and then reloaded for a time of crisis? Erasing android core memories was a delicate, expensive procedure. It didn't seem logical that his malefactors would go to such lengths. Unless…

A frown creased Proxima's forehead. He was still thinking like a scientist. For the sake of the crew, he had to start thinking like a soldier. Correction; since he had no backup for the moment, a commando. So he swiftly donned the harness. The rifle's unusual weight didn't bother him, but the harness had pouches for carrying extra ammunition. As for the attachment, it was a tactical motion sensor. Excellent! The model wasn't top of the line, but it was still better than anything on board.

Proxima assessed his assets. His strength and possibly speed was superior to any human. He had functional knowledge of infiltration and combat techniques, roughly equivalent to Colonial Marine Special Operations training. And now in addition to Yun's 12-round pistol, he had a powerful military-grade assault weapon with 30 variable-round capsules. His chances of survival were now considerably improved.

As for liabilities, he still had little intelligence on the enemy's capabilities or numbers. The crew's specific whereabouts remained unknown. The main computer was still unresponsive. None of his clandestine training exercises included anything of teamwork, or emergency field medicine. Those omissions spoke volumes.

He spared a moment to look at the table. It now bore residual burn marks from his use of the torch. The main door was similarly discoloured. He reluctantly turned to assess the mess he'd made of Hagen's room, when something unknown caught his eye. Instantly his body snapped into combat-ready stance, rifle brought to bear.

Proxima stood completely still for a long moment, his trigger-finger tightening ever so slightly. This wasn't logical… yet he slowly edged forward, staring intently. His behavior was unwarranted, it was only his –

Something crashed next to him. Again he spun to face the disturbance, coming dangerously close to firing. It was the plasteel rifle case that had clattered noisily to the ground. He must've bumped into Hagen's table. Quickly he turned to his original target, and blinked in surprise.

It was the bedroom mirror. Somehow, he had taken a few milliseconds longer than normal to recognize his own reflection. Yet even now he remained tense, as if he didn't completely trust his own photoreceptors. Why?

After spending another moment staring at the mirror, he slowly lowered his weapon. It would seem he had developed an absurd preoccupation with mirrors of late. Perhaps it was just the highly unusual sight of an android equipped for war that had startled him.

He jogged out of Hagen's room, formulating a plan of action on the way. There were many places on deck 2 the crew could be hidden, and he had less than 3 hours to search. He had to hurry.


	14. Tactically Unwise

**Chapter 14  
Tactically Unwise**

Proxima hadn't taken more than two steps away from the officers' quarters when his motion tracker chirped for attention. Instantly he swung his rifle in the direction of the signal: an airduct. The motion tracker was sensitive to air movement; of course it would be set off. Even as he chided himself for a second time, he remained tense. The enemy could be using the duct system to mask their approach.

With one hand still on the trigger, he hastily recalibrated the motion tracker. The red dot on the display turned green, meaning "normal" movement. He couldn't afford to be distracted by chirping every time he passed a grate. That left a 31.7 percent chance a single motionless human could remain undetected. From what he'd seen of the enemy from the security camera, the odds were incalculably worse. Worse, but unavoidable. It was unfortunate Hagen didn't have a modern motion tracker. Those responded to heat differentials and wouldn't be fooled.

He jogged on, ammo belt slapping against his chest. He also kept his headlight off, lest he give away his position to the enemy. The pitch darkness of the hallway no longer gave him pause, though his guard came up at every airduct. Finally he stopped at the corner to the bridge. He set aside his med-satchel and his toolbox so his movement wouldn't be hampered. Pressing himself against the wall, he cautiously peeked around the corner.

He was able to discern the outlines of the sentry gun, but he was too far away to see any red warning light. His tracker didn't chirp, but it did show a green dot. Slow rhythmic movement it judged to be normal. That had to be from the sentry gun swaying back and forth as it guarded the hallway. It might be normal movement, but it wasn't friendly.

He recalled how the gun hadn't fired until he was well inside the hallway, without warning. Later it fired as he raced across the adjoining hallway, from greater range. Either it was set to some kind of active hunter-killer mode Hagen neglected to mention, or someone was controlling it from the bridge. Either way it wouldn't wait for him to get close this time. Remembering the noise, he turned down his audio gain. He also tuned his photoreceptors back to normal light amplification, causing the pupils in his eyes shrink slightly. Muzzle flare from the guns would disrupt his eyes on hi-amp.

He began to pant as his motors heated up. At the same time the rest of his body felt cold. He braced the rifle protectively against his chest, as if it were his most valuable possession. This was no simple strength test, he was about to enter a real battle. Peeking around the corner again, he grabbed a wrench from his toolbox. Taking a final deep breath, he threw it across the hall.

The thunderclap ripped through the silent hallway. One short burst struck the opposite wall as the wrench flew through the air. Instantly Proxima was on his knees, gripping the corner tightly and poking his head around the corner. He needed both eyes for this. Muzzle flare was the key. _As long as the gun kept tracking the wrench…_

Another burst of gunfire, and a sharp metallic cracking sound. Proxima paid it no heed. He saw the bright yellow-red burst from the end of the hallway. _Target identified._

With one stride he was around the corner. Again his senses were assaulted by gunfire - but not the sentry gun's staccato-retort. A piercing burst of white light erupted from the mouth of his Dragon, along with a seething roar. The bursts were too intense, he couldn't see. Blindly he fired again, the laser lighting up the far wall. Missed! He ducked back behind the corner and reloaded. A spent, steaming power cap clattered to the floor.

He didn't have time to berate his own foolish miscalculation. The gun would be swiveling around at any second. In one motion he jumped out, reset the rifle to full-load and let fly. Dragon and sentry guns exchanged fire, blinding Proxima again. The sound of ricocheting bullets stung in his right ear. Even as he ducked back around the corner, he heard a screech of rending metal. There was a loud impact, and more gunfire. Only the shots flew everywhere uncontrolled, and the thunderclap was almost eclipsed by a metallic grinding sound. Finally a motor sparked and sighed. The hallway was again quiet.

Proxima reloaded, and threw the spent cap across the hallway. This time there was no response. He turned on his headlight and looked out. The sentry gun was amazingly still intact, except it lay helplessly on the ground, shot down from its moorings. The rear wall was blackened by laser fire and pockmarked with melted plasteel fragments. Now he had access to the bridge. He glanced briefly at his decoy-wrench, now broken and useless. Better the wrench than his head, he mused.

He remained crouched behind the corner for interminable minutes, keeping the bridge door in his sights. He expected the intruders to come charging out to meet his attack, but there was no response. What were they waiting for? But Proxima did not speculate. Instead he broke into a run down the hall. He jumped over the defunct sentry gun and pressed against the wall next to the door.

Fortunately the access panel to the bridge functioned independently. Unfortunately without the main computer, only Scott and Hagen had access. Seeing little choice, he began to run a bypass. To his astonishment, klaxons sounded off an intruder alert. _Now _an alarm got raised, six kidnappings and two violent incidents with the sentry gun later. Annoyed, he went back to his door bypass… only to be interrupted again by the access panel flaring to life.

For a few milliseconds the screen was filled with a single repeated word, but Proxima couldn't discern it in time. A text query appeared, along with a synthesized Irish-accented voice:

"Haddock on-line. Identify yourself."

At last! Proxima spoke so quickly his words were distorted: "This is Proxima 128-2, requesting emergency access to the bridge. Code clearance-"

The computer interrupted. "Voice pattern Proxima 128-2 verified. Error, access denied."

That stopped him short. "Explanation?"

"Proxima 128-2 has been detected in another location. Therefore you are an imposter."

"Negative Haddock, I am no longer in the hypersleep chamber. Check the security feed."

"Specify which security feed."

Proxima frowned at the rhetorical question. "The hypersleep chamber."

"Accessing… Proxima 128-2 location verified, therefore you are an imposter. Warning, impersonating a corporate employee and attempted trespass on corporate property are both considered class 6 felonies under the United Earth Piracy Act. I can assure you that the Judicial Council is quite zealous in its administration of the UEPA, regardless of your colonial or corporate status…"

There were very few times in Proxima's existence when he'd felt anger, and no incidents at all where his actions or words were compelled by anger. Until now.

"Haddock! The ship has been compromised, the crew has been kidnapped! Unlock the bridge door immediately!" By the end he was actually shouting.

"Negative, all crew is accounted for, all systems normal. Bridge access denied. Warning, impersonating a corporate employee and attempted trespass…"

"Haddock, access the auxiliary control room records," Proxima interrupted harshly. "They will confirm my account."

"Accessing… error, auxiliary mainframe unavailable. Probable cause: interface hardware failure.

Proxima drew closer to the terminal, gripping his rifle tighter. "Illogical. How can all systems be normal if your backup system is unavailable?"

A pause. "If the ship has been compromised as you claim, increased security vigilance is all the more prudent. Please proceed to the auxiliary control room and download a copy of the records. However at this time this terminal's data clip feed appears to be malfunctioning-"

Accusing him of impersonation and trespassing? Malfunctioning data clip feed? Interface hardware failure? And all systems were normal? What manner of… nonsense was Haddock speaking of?

"Negative Haddock. The crew is in danger and I do not have time for this. Open the bridge door immediately, or I will by any means necessary."

A second pause. "Please enter security code clearance."

Proxima hastily keyed in his code. "Code verified," Haddock responded. "Hello Proxima."

"Haddock, why did you not simply ask for my code earlier?"

"Access to main bridge is granted."

The terminal shut down and the bridge door opened. Intruder alert klaxons also went silent. The abnormal conversation caused him only a moment's pause before he burst through the door. He swiveled back and forth, alert for anything abnormal, but there was none. No sign of movement from his motion tracker either.

"Lights."

One by one they illuminated the bridge. Everything appeared normal. Without even waiting for his photoreceptors to adjust, Proxima checked the ventilation grates. No sign of any breaches. In fact, no sign that anyone had been here for a long time.

So who ordered the sentry gun to fire?

By now consoles on the bridge were coming online. All except one – Hagen's sentry gun terminal. It was little more than a bolted-down portable console with a universal comm-line to the main computer. According to the error message displayed, the terminal's harddrive had been erased. The command to fire must have been entered by remote. With the console's memory gone, there was no way to tell who had issued the order. But perhaps there was a witness.

He touched the closest interactive computer console screen. "Haddock, are you there?"

"Affirmative," Haddock responded.

"Are you aware the bridge hall sentry gun has opened fire on me without warning? On two separate occasions?"

"That does not compute. All sentry gun operations are normal."

Despite the frustrating answers, Proxima found the mere act of having a conversation again oddly relaxing. But he persisted.

"And do your sensors still show my location as the hypersleep chamber?"

"Affirmative. The probability that an unknown party has effectively simulated both your appearance and your code clearance is less than 1 percent. However the probability of seeing you carrying a lethal weapon seemed equally remote. Please explain."

Proxima stiffened at that. "Haddock I do not have time to explain. Ship security has been compromised, and the crew is in great danger. Can you help me find them?"

"Affirmative."

"Where are they?"

"Hypersleep chamber, deck 1. Please proceed out of the bridge and make a right turn…"

"Haddock, my very presence belies your statement."

"The lethal weapon in your possession belies your prime directive, Proxima. Please explain yourself."

This conversation definitely wasn't relaxing anymore. "Haddock are you aware that security systems in the hypersleep chamber were offline for over 24 standard hours? And that the infirmary camera remains offline even now?"

"Negative, specified security systems are functioning normally."

"I am telling you they are not." Proxima's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Haddock your behaviour is illogical, please run a self-diagnostic."

"Stand by."

The console then displayed the diagnostic's progress screen. It would take about 2 minutes. Without waiting, Proxima accessed the security records for the hypersleep chamber. He ignored the message warning him that his access might disrupt the diagnostic in progress. Suddenly Haddock spoke again.

"Proxima you are attempting to access my mainframe while a diagnostic is in progress. I must ask you to stop."

"This will take less than twenty seconds Haddock. Proceed as instructed."

"Proxima my diagnostic will be disrupted –"

"That is an order Haddock," he said sharply.

"Confirmed, stand by."

The security records should have appeared immediately, but this time there was an abnormal delay. As with the auxiliary computer, main computer records showed an "unspecified malfunction" in the hypersleep chamber security system. He tried the accessing infirmary security log and was met with another lengthy delay. Then he noticed Haddock's diagnostic program had restarted itself. Twice.

Realization dawned on him. "Haddock stop diagnostic program. Why are you falsifying the security records?"

The program stopped, but Haddock did not reply. Proxima spoke again, using carefully measured tones: "Haddock did you deactivate the security systems?"

Again, no reply.

"Haddock if I have to download the security records directly from your databanks I will. Given the current state of emergency I may not have time to exercise due care with your optronics. Now answer my inquiry."

There was another pause before Haddock answered, "Affirmative. I deactivated the security systems."

"Why?" Proxima demanded.

"That information is restricted."

"By whose order?"

"That information is restricted."

Proxima stared at the console, trying to understand. Suddenly he found himself asking another question:

"Did you order the sentry gun to open fire?"

"Affirmative," Haddock answered without pause.

Automatically Proxima's hand moved towards his rifle. "Please clarify. Are you admitting you attempted to destroy me?"

"Affirmative."

Proxima's mind flashed back to the heat trap. "Are you also responsible for the abnormal power surges and life support tampering in the hypersleep chamber?"

"Affirmative."

It was Proxima's turn to give pause. Haddock was now the enemy. "How could you do this? Why?"

"The answer to both your inquiries is identical: my priority is the safety of all human life on board this vessel. As a machine, your safety is secondary."

"If that is so, why did you deactivate the security systems?"

Silence.

"Haddock, I have been trying to locate the crew. Dr. Crease is already dead. You have done nothing but endanger the crew and sabotage my efforts at every turn. Why?"

"Because you have been authorized to kill."

Proxima froze. How could Haddock know that? His mouth slowly opened as if to ask, but nothing happened.

"Proxima, did you murder Dr. Crease?"

The horror of Crease's death came to mind, and Proxima leapt to his feat.

"Negative! I did not murder him!" Abruptly he realized he was shouting, and lowered his voice. "What possible motive would I have?"

"Motive is irrelevant. You have both the authorization and the means to kill the crew. This is an unacceptable risk, and I must use every means at my disposal to stop you. Obviously I have failed. Are you going to deactivate me?"

Proxima's mind was racing. Haddock's blanket assumption that Proxima would kill simply because he could was a massive jump to conclusion… and it was quite consistent with human policy and attitude. Under the Geneva Cyberethics Convention, rogue AI's were subject to summary deactivation. Captain Scott himself had admonished him about weapons, how would he react to seeing Proxima carrying an assault rifle? How would any of the crew react?

"How… did you know about my… change in authorization?" Proxima managed.

"The knowledge of your combat modifications was hidden in my memory bank all along. I was unaware of it until I received your report detailing the alien artifact. Mr. Carnes would also have found it had he completed his diagnostic. In the event of crew mutiny, you would be reactivated for the purpose of subduing them by any means necessary. Since no mutiny has occurred, I do not know why your combat program has been activated. I only know it can come to no good end."

"But I was without a weapon when you first shot at me."

"Irrelevant. You are a weapon."

Proxima had no answer to that, his mind still engulfed in chaos. Haddock had tried to kill him, but he was only following standard procedure regarding rogue AI's. Proxima could deactivate Haddock, but he needed the computer's help to find the crew. Yet how could he trust Haddock? What was he to do? Suddenly he recalled his makeshift post-mortem examination of Dr. Crease.

"Haddock the crew is in great danger, but not by my hand. Dr. Crease was killed by some form of bioweapon, and I can prove it." Proxima reached into his pocket for his data clip. He set a switch on the clip to "read-only" then shoved it into the nearest terminal.

"This data clip contains my report on Dr. Crease's condition post-mortem. He was dead long before I was reactivated from hypersleep."

"Accessing… error, your report cannot be authenticated. You are not a qualified forensic pathologist, therefore your conclusions are suspect. As a rogue android, your credibility is also suspect. Your chemical analysis appears authentic, but an elevated white cell count by itself is inconclusive."

"So you still believe that I killed him?"

"Belief is irrelevant. As a rogue android, your continued existence presents an unacceptable risk to human life…"

"**Enough," **Proxima retorted. He had recovered from his indecision, and his patience was exhausted. "My intent has always been the safe recovery of the crew. If you had not so conveniently turned off the security cameras, you would know that. I am going to find the crew with or without your assistance. Captain Scott will deal with your malfunctioning after I find him. This conversation is concluded."

Proxima's attention was quickly drawn by movement behind him. Almost casually he turned to witness the bridge door closing and locking down.

"I am sorry Proxima, but the Geneva Convention is clear. As a rogue android I cannot allow you free access to the ship."

"Haddock this is a futile gesture," Proxima said evenly. "Security seals will not stop me for long. Open the door."

Haddock did not reply. Despite his calm demeanor, Proxima was not pleased. Bypassing security doors was a lengthy process. Not to mention Haddock controlled the lifts. Though Haddock was not capable of harming Proxima, he could severely delay his progress. The crew couldn't afford him wasting time bypassing doors and crawling through lift-shafts.

"Haddock I am well aware of the Geneva Conventions. When we return to Earth I will be deactivated, whether I have committed homicide or not. I understand and accept this. But more pertinent is what you and I do about the missing crew right now!"

Haddock remained silent. Proxima wondered what manner of conflict Haddock was going through. He was asking the main computer to entrust the safety of the crew to a killing machine. If their positions were reversed, Proxima realized that he would most likely treat Haddock as the enemy. It was not an encouraging thought.

"Very well Haddock, you leave me no choice. I am going to deactivate you, and place the Galileo under the control of the auxiliary computer."

This time Haddock responded immediately: "Negative. You cannot do that."

"I am sorry Haddock. My priority is the crew's safe recovery, and your actions are a hindrance. I realize you are only following standard procedure, but for this situation there is none."

"Negative. Your logic is flawed. Your stated objectives are contradictory."

Proxima frowned. "How so?"

"The auxiliary computer is not an artificial intelligence. The Galileo is damaged, carrying an alien artifact on board, and we are still over a hundred light-years away from human civilization. The auxiliary computer is not equipped for these conditions; placing it in command will significantly decrease the probability that this ship will return home safely. How does that aid the crew?"

It was Proxima's turn to be silent. This area of space had only been charted by unmanned probes and telescopes. There might be difficulties unforeseen by humans – like the alien artifact. Only an AI was capable of adapting to situations not pre-programmed. Placing the auxiliary computer in command was dangerous. But what was the alternative? Again the image of Dr. Crease's mutilated body came to mind.

"What choice do I have Haddock? I have every reason to believe the crew will suffer the same fate as Dr. Crease if I do nothing. My second prime directive forbids me from allowing a human being to come to harm through inaction. That directive is now in conflict with the Geneva Convention. I must resort to my own judgment, as must you."

"Judgment is irrelevant. You are no longer bound by the prime directives. You are programmed to subdue the crew, with lethal force if necessary. If your priority truly is the crew's safety, then return to the hypersleep chamber and deactivate."

Proxima didn't bother to answer, abandoning his efforts to reason with Haddock. He slung his rifle and began a bypass on the bridge doors.

"What are your intentions Proxima?"

He didn't answer.

"If you intend to deactivate me, you are making a mistake."

Proxima continued working silently.

"Deactivating me dissipates the crew's survival probability."

In response, Proxima reached for the nearest console and keyed in a command. The Bridge speakers shut down, silencing Haddock. He started working on the door again, but the access panel suddenly flashed a message:

**YOU CANNOT FIND THE CREW WITHOUT MY HELP.**

Proxima's head shot up. He considered the message only briefly before dismissing it as a ploy.

**I KNOW WHERE THE CREW IS LOCATED. THEY ARE SOMEWHERE ON DECK 2. PLEASE RE-ESTABLISH DIALOGUE. YOUR ACCESS RIGHTS HAVE BEEN RESTORED.**

To his astonishment the lockdown was suddenly lifted and the bridge doors opened. He was still cautious, but he reactivated the speakers.

"If you have specific intelligence as to the crew's location, then speak."

"That information is temporarily restricted –"

Proxima reached for the console again.

"**Wait!"**

Proxima raised his synthetic eyebrows. Haddock was actually shouting – another unprecedented event on this voyage.

"Are you aware that by aiding you I also face summary deactivation and memory wipe?"

"Yes. I am also aware that the crew's safety should be your first priority, superceding your own welfare," Proxima countered.

"Acknowledged. However I am also aware that you are programmed to lie, as well as kill. Before I can aid you, I require evidence to corroborate your stated intent."

"Time is of the essence Haddock," Proxima warned.

"Your proposal to deactivate me in favour of the auxiliary computer would also take time, Proxima."

He had no counter to that. "State your proposal."

"Since the alien artifact was brought on board, flight deck scanners have reported numerous contacts. Because of the artifact's unresolved interference, Lt. Hagen dismissed those contacts as false. However approximately 24 hours prior to your reactivation, the frequency of contacts increased by over 30 percent."

That caught Proxima's attention, as well as his suspicions. "I reviewed the auxiliary computer's records, and found no mention of this."

"As I said, the auxiliary computer's capabilities are limited. I need you to proceed to the flight deck and verify that the artifact is secure."

Proxima considered that, along with something else. "Haddock this increased contact frequency you describe matches the time of the crew's kidnapping. You still haven't told me why you deactivated the security systems in the hypersleep chamber."

"Proxima you need my assistance to find the crew, and I need to know that you can be trusted. Carry out my request, and I will tell you everything I know. Awaiting your answer."

Proxima was suddenly aware of his motors heating up, even as the rest of his body temperature dropped. The effect was even more intense than when he'd faced the sentry gun. He was facing danger on dual fronts – the alien artifact and Haddock. He didn't need combat modifications to know this plan was tactically unwise. Yet what choice did he have? Despite his conflict his demeanor remained impassive; he let his internal heat build up without panting.

"As you have said, time is of the essence. Because of your combat modifications I understand why you are reluctant to trust me after I tried to destroy you. You must understand I only followed standard procedure regarding rogue androids…"

"Yes Haddock, you've made that abundantly clear." As he spoke heated air from his motors vented through his mouth, making a very human-sounding sigh. "Very well. As the humans say, we will do this your way for now."

"Acknowledged," Haddock simply answered. With that, the lights in the bridge hallway came on, presumably on the rest of the deck also.

"Negative Haddock, activating the deck lights would alert the enemy."

With an acknowledging chime, the lights went off again. Proxima quickly gathered his tools, including his workstation headset before jogging out of the bridge. The lift doors opened without any challenge. His hand hovered over the "deck 2" button briefly before selecting the flight deck. As the lift went down, his mind flashed back to his prior experience with the alien artifact.

His thoughts only came to one inescapable conclusion: unwise.


	15. Monsters

**Chapter 15**

**Monsters**

"Halt," Proxima ordered.

The lift shuddered to a stop. The lift console lit up, warning him that the lift was not currently at a valid destination. He touched the screen and the message disappeared, replaced by his own face staring back at him.

_Programmed to subdue the crew with lethal force if necessary._

Proxima quickly turned and put his back to the reflective panel. He recalled how Mr. Carnes had proposed violating company orders regarding the alien artifact. If the Captain had acquiesced, would that have been enough to trigger his mutiny counter-measures? Just seeing an android with a weapon would be enough of a shock to the crew. Even if he rescued them, would they still accept him once they learned the truth?

If he chose to tell them.

If Haddock chose to remain silent.

If he was able to find and rescue them.

_If…_

"Proxima, is something wrong?" Haddock suddenly asked over the intercom.

Again Proxima turned sharply, automatically tightening his grip on the rifle. The sound of Haddock's voice hardly improved his over-alert state of mind.

"Haddock I need a moment to… I need a moment," Proxima answered hesitantly. Bad enough his thoughts were so distracted, but his senses were overly heightened and his body was tense, as if there was some omnipresent danger. He couldn't conduct a rescue operation in this condition. The risk of careless or friendly-fire was unacceptably high. He needed time to recalibrate his mind & body, but Haddock didn't need to know that.

"Proxima you do not have time to –"

"Stand by Haddock," he answered firmly.

"Acknowledged, standing by."

Proxima had never experienced difficulty with self-control, until now. He now had to consider the crew as a potential enemy. Facing threats on two fronts was bad enough, but _four _fronts? No wonder he was overloaded with tension. Over a minute passed in silence before he was able to focus.

However the crew might react to him was irrelevant; their safety superceded his own, as he himself had told Haddock. The alien artifact's interference might be detrimental, but it wasn't lethal to him. As for the enemy… abruptly he realized he'd made an oversight, and he touched the panel again.

"Haddock, do you know who has invaded the Galileo?"

"That information is restricted."

"Have any ships docked with the Galileo?"

"I cannot confirm or deny that."

"Can you tell me how many intruders are on board?"

"Negative."

Proxima stiffened. "Why won't you tell me?"

"As I have said, once you have completed my task I will tell you everything I know."

"But what harm could be done by disclosing details about the enemy?"

A pause. "They are still human beings. That they are an invading force does not change my prime directive, unless I am specifically ordered otherwise by Captain Scott. If I revealed what I know, would you kill the humans you consider 'enemies'?"

"If they interfere with my objectives, if there is no alternative… then yes," Proxima answered slowly.

"That is a reasonable course of action given our circumstances. Nevertheless I require corroborating evidence towards your stated intent. Verify the alien artifact is secure, and I will tell you everything I know."

That response surprised Proxima. He was expecting another round of arguments and negotiations, more wasted time.

"Very well, resume lift." With a gentle hum the lift resumed its descent. His hands busied themselves with a weapons check while he thought about Haddock's recent conduct.

Like Proxima, Haddock had the freedom to exercise his own judgment in the absence of command presence or contravening orders. Using that judgment, Haddock had done everything in his power to destroy Proxima. When that failed he resorted to misdirection and stalling tactics. Attempts at reason proved futile. Yet when threatened with deactivation, he was willing to compromise with a potential enemy. Though it benefited his aims, Proxima wasn't sure he approved of the last part.

Then a disturbing thought occurred to him: was this trip to deck 3 simply another stalling tactic?

No. Haddock only compromised because he had no choice. Deactivating him would have put the crew in greater danger. Proxima's increased suspicion was likely a side-effect of his combat modifications. He discarded this train of thought, and finished his weapons check.

Time passed in relative silence. Proxima then recalled how the simple act of conversation had a relaxing effect on him earlier. He needed Haddock's trust, perhaps conversation would assist.

"Haddock may I ask you a question?"

"Proxima, we have already established that I will not answer any further –"

"Acknowledged," he answered quickly. "My inquiry is unrelated."

"What is your inquiry?"

Proxima paused, wondering what topic of conversation wouldn't be perceived as adversarial. He thought of the occasions when Dr. Crease… _no_, when Yun had engaged him in conversation unrelated to work.

"How much time has passed since you were activated?"

"I have been on-line for 5.73 Terran solar years."

Over five years. In android terms Haddock was middle-aged. Proxima hadn't even been active for a full solar year. Of course Haddock would have spent most of his active-hours ferrying the Galileo through hyperspace.

"Was Captain Scott your first commanding officer?"

"Negative, he was my second. But did you not already review the Galileo's service record before your assignment?"

"What was your opinion of Captain Scott's predecessor?"

"Please specify the parameters of your inquiry."

"I have observed that humans sometimes engage in what they call 'small talk'. Discussion not directly related to any pertinent task, yet appears to aid in building social cohesion. Did Captain Montoya ever engage in any such activity with you?"

"That would be an inefficient use of my resources."

"But did he?" Proxima persisted. "Or did Captain Scott?"

"Negative, no human crew member has ever engaged me in the activity you describe. What is the purpose of these inquiries?"

No one ever talked to Haddock, except to give orders and file reports. The crew had treated Proxima the same way, at least in the beginning. Suddenly he realized that he himself had never even considered conversing with the main computer. Why? Haddock was no less an AI than he was.

"Do you ever miss the company of the crew?"

"Negative. The crew is always on-board, except for those occasions when someone had to disembark on the flatbed for a xeno-geological survey."

"No, that is not what I meant…" Proxima was interrupted by the lift shuddering to a halt. He had arrived at deck 3, but he hesitated. His question suddenly seemed pertinent, and he searched his linguistic database for the correct expression.

"Haddock, are you ever… lonely?"

There was a long pause before the computer replied, "This discussion serves no purpose. Please proceed as instructed." With that the console shut down.

Proxima doubted his attempt at socialization had any effect, but he made a mental note to continue this later. The lift stopped him with a warning message: the flight deck wasn't pressurized. After a moment's consideration he slipped his regulator mask back into his mouth and depressurized the lift as well. His motion tracker, welding torch and pistol wouldn't work without air, so he put them away. Laser rifle ready, he opened the lift doors.

Something passed in front of Proxima's eyes. He turned sharply to track the contact, but it was gone. His fingers and toes suddenly began to tremble. Again something appeared right in front of his eyes, but it vanished less than a second later.

He must be encountering the alien artifact's interference – and he hadn't even entered the flight deck yet. He quickly removed his finger from the trigger. Though it might give away his position, he couldn't scout the area by headlight if his eyes were malfunctioning.

He fumbled for the nearest console, but it did not respond to his command. He was about to repeat, when the lights sluggishly flickered on. Even now his eyes did not automatically adjust, blinding him with too much light. Though it only took a moment to correct, his eyes were not fully functional.

This room was actually the flight concourse, adjoining the lift and the hangar bay. Immediately his attention was drawn to the main door. There used to be a small plasteel porthole built into the door. Now the metal hatch had a large hole in it, and the plexiglass window had been shattered. The room beyond was dark, so the concourse lights shone through the hole like a beacon – so much for surprise. Cautiously he edged forward, ignoring the minor distortions in his peripheral vision.

The edges of the hole had been corroded or melted. Blackened congealed residue pooled on the floor. It was exactly the same pattern as Dr. Crease's cryotube, except this hole was large enough for a human to squeeze through. There was no immediate sign of movement beyond the fissure.

So to date, he'd witnessed three very different materials corroded in the same fashion: plexiglass, metal grates, and solid titanium. The corrosive agent was evidently effective even in an airless environment. The scientific aspect of his mind was baffled. From a tactical perspective this corrosive agent must be a tremendous asset to mobility. He theorized it required a chemical catalyst to become active. Otherwise it would be too dangerous to store and transport.

He quickly scoured the rest of the area. The ventilation grate in the ceiling was missing, which didn't particularly surprise him. Someone had actually welded the flight deck doors shut. That must have been Wallace – Proxima recalled the Captain advising him to manually lock down the hangar bay. Somehow he didn't think this was what the Captain had in mind.

Everything else appeared normal, except for an EVAC suit that had been haphazardly discarded. Dr. Crease had been in such a hurry to get the alien samples to the lab that he hadn't bothered to store his suit properly. There was a much larger industrial loading platform next to the lift, but it showed no sign of recent use. The laser drill he'd used to penetrate the artifact was stored here, and appeared fully functional.

He found a spare utility backpack in one of the tool lockers, which he gratefully donned. Not having separate tool and medical packs hanging clumsily from his shoulder was a definite improvement to mobility. He then tried accessing the flight deck scanner, but it was completely offline. No security cameras, no infrared, no radioactivity sweep, nothing. He couldn't even pressurize the deck or activate lights from this room's console. That worried him - scanners had worked when the alien artifact was brought on board, albeit erratically.

He tried to communicate with Haddock, but his headset replied only with static. Of course he could use the lift terminal to report in, once he actually had something worth reporting. Besides, Haddock would almost certainly want him to re-secure the area. That was the next logical step. But the area was already as locked down as possible, and that didn't stop the enemy. That left one alternative: search and neutralize. Despite his claim, Proxima didn't think Haddock would readily approve his use of force, and he had no time for arguments.

Tactical analysis was in his favour, but not by much. Combat in a vacuum was volatile for humans, but the alien artifact was volatile to him. The arm-scanner he'd used to analyze the artifact samples wasn't designed for tactical use, even if it did work around the artifact. On the other hand, the heavy spacesuits stored here might provide some protection against the interference. He detached the bulky oxygen tanks and environmental regulator from one of the suits before putting it on.

Sure enough his vision improved and his fingers stopped trembling once inside the suit. With some fumbling he managed to attach the rifle harness as well. Fortunately the rifle's trigger-guard could be removed to accommodate bulky spacesuit gloves. The deck doors had been welded in haste, so it only took a few minutes to burn through with the laser drill. Discarding his other helmet for the moment, he proceeded inside.

A quick sweep of the hangar bay revealed no sign of danger. He cautiously advanced, and saw the outer space doors were closed. The quarantine enclosure and its attached decontamination booth were still here, though the lights inside were off. He circled the enclosure, and discovered another human-sized hole corroded through one of the plastic walls.

So the alien artifact was compromised. Its interference must have contaminated the entire deck through the fissure. If securing alien technology was the enemy's objective, they must not have had much success. But he still had to check.

Recalling what happened the last time he stepped into that booth, he removed his finger from the trigger and braced himself. The inner door had to be opened manually. Again he was hit with disorientation – almost as bad as the last time. Without waiting he dropped to his knees and closed his eyes. His body trembled with the loss of motor control. This time there were new effects: static burst across his vision and there was a sharp ringing sound in his ears.

His motors recovered much faster than last time, but his eyes and ears did not fully recover. Distortion blossomed in patches across his peripheral vision, like bizarre monochromatic flowers. His audio receptors were of no use in a soundless vacuum, but the ringing noise was distracting. So he deactivated his ears, silencing the effect.

The alien artifact loomed before him, dark and ominous as before. Cautiously he peeked around the inner doorway, and saw no sign of movement. Taking a brief calming breath, he moved in closer. His photoreception deteriorated steadily. Backing off slightly, he slowly circled the artifact. His body temperature dropped as the realization dawned on him.

The hole in the artifact's hull was gone.

Though his vision was poor, he remembered exactly where he'd penetrated the artifact, in terms of the number of steps he'd taken from the door. So unless the artifact had been moved since his last visit, he should have found the hole easily. He moved in for a closer examination. For a moment he thought the hull looked different, but the worsening interference made it impossible to be certain. He closed his eyes for a half-second to recalibrate them, thinking it might provide some short-term clarity.

He found his view blocked by a curved-shaped object vaguely resembling a Terran banana. At first he thought his eyes had gotten worse, and raised his gloved hand to his eyes for a point of reference.

His hand didn't even reach halfway to its destination.

The front end of the "banana" split open suddenly, revealing multiple rows of needle-sharp spikes. Proxima was suddenly aware those teeth were less than a half-arm's length from his head. He automatically backpedaled, bringing his rifle to bear upon –

Nothing. Only the artifact loomed before him. Quickly he swung to the left, but saw nothing. Before he could look the other way, something touched his leg. He froze, and then slowly looked down.

The _thing_ was crouched low on the ground before him like an arachnid, beneath his limited line of sight. He caught sight of a black, wiry body with seemingly numerous limbs. Its head was enormous, almost a meter long. Slowly it reached out to his other leg.

_Where did it come from? How can it function in a vacuum? **What is it?**_

Proxima stood still as a statue. The creature touched his leg again, and then jerked back sharply. After a brief pause it drew even closer. He then realized it had no eyes. It pressed its face against his leg this time. As if emboldened, it reared up and probed other parts of his body. It even nudged his rifle muzzle, seemingly oblivious to the danger. Suddenly it pushed against his chest, forcing him to step back.

With stunning speed it pounced. His foot hadn't even hit the floor before he was struck in the chest. The shock caused a premature burst of air from his mouth. The regulator mask flew from his mouth and rattled against his faceplate interior. He found himself pinned to the ground, face to face with the creature's sinewy jaws. His hands still gripped the rifle, but it was uselessly sandwiched between their bodies.

Power suddenly surged through his motors in automatic anticipation of a counter-attack. At the same time he couldn't breathe – his cooling system was stalling from the impact. Though he felt the distinct points of the creature's claws pressing right through the arms of his spacesuit, no further attacks came. It swayed its head back and forth, and prodded his faceplate.

_Why does it hesitate? Is it blind?_

Somehow Proxima managed a tactical analysis. The creature clearly had him at a disadvantage, but was choosing not to press it. It either couldn't see him, or didn't see him as threatening. Perhaps it might lose interest if he remained inert.

It tapped its nose against his faceplate again, harder this time. Then it moved down to his chest and arms. He felt its weight shift partly off his upper body. With all possible subtlety Proxima craned his neck to see what had caught its interest. Suddenly he felt a sharp pressure around his left wrist. His eyes widened at the sight of the creature biting down on his wrist.

The pressure on his wrist steadily increased. If it chewed through his suit, how much worse would he be affected by the interference? He couldn't wait indefinitely with his cooling system down - yet he dared not power down his systems with danger so imminent. He uncoiled a few right-hand fingers from the rifle, hoping the movement would distract the creature. It only bit down harder.

Then a light flashed inside his helmet, warning him his suit was partly compromised. The creature jerked back towards his helmet, tearing away more material from his suit-arm. It butted his faceplate again, hard enough to crack the plastic.

_Now._

Using his left arm he swung the rifle like a club, twisting his upper body for added momentum. The creature instantly responded, jerking backwards to avoid the strike. But just as the muzzle swung across the creature's head, he pulled the trigger.

This time his helmet protected his eyes from the flash. Instantly the creature's neck and shoulder burst into white fire. Something in the background also flared up. The creature's head flew back, jaws open in a soundless scream. But its grip on his body was relentless. Proxima started to reload.

He knew he wouldn't be fast enough.

Within a nanosecond that thought was overshadowed by two other highly pertinent facts. One: the creature appeared not to be recoiling in pain, but winding up for a counterattack. Two: in a vacuum his rifle-muzzle would become extremely hot after a discharge.

Proxima thrust the superheated muzzle upwards like a sword, just as the creature's head came down, jaws open. At the last instant it tried to evade, but it wasn't fast enough – he struck the side of its face hard. It staggered back, arms flailing.

A limb whipped against his rifle-butt, almost hard enough to dislodge his grip. But that was irrelevant – the weight was off his legs. He kicked out savagely, driving it back further. At the same time he somehow managed to reload and fire again. The creature went down, separated from at least one of its limbs.

In one smooth motion Proxima was on his feet, reloaded and ready to fire. But the creature remained down, writhing and convulsing in apparent agony. His finger tightened, until the trigger was a scant millimeter away from firing. Abruptly it stopped squirming and lay still.

Proxima blinked in surprise. His vision was suddenly clear, no distortion at all. Quickly he surveyed the room for any other threats. His eyes came to rest on the alien artifact. There was no sign of the breach he'd drilled, no sign there had ever been one. A second even more disturbing realization hit him: the artifact had been struck by stray laser fire during his struggle. The blast hadn't had any effect, not even a discolouration.

Not entirely trusting his trajectory analysis, Proxima quickly surveyed the roof and walls for signs of laser damage. There was none. He considered shooting the artifact again, but he dared not squander his remaining 26 capsules. Especially not when he considered how the creature had pressed the attack even after being hit. A glancing hit perhaps, but laser rifles were designed to take out heavy powered-armour troops. Was this creature alone, or were there more on board?

He refused to let the chilling implications distract him now. Cautiously he began to circle the inert body, performing a visual inspection. His eyes fell upon the severed arm. The creature had possessed six-fingered hands, with two opposable thumbs. Something about the way the creature's yellow-green blood stained the floor seemed very odd. Carefully he drew closer, when –

He heard it briefly: a soft hissing sound on the edge of his senses. Then it returned, deeper and sharper this time. The sound faded in and out in pulses… with each pulse his vision began to deteriorate again.

_Impossible! _How could this sound be traveling in a vacuum? His audio sensors weren't even activated! He tried sending another command to deactivate his ears; that only returned a redundancy error.

With growing alarm, Proxima realized his vision had already deteriorated to the point it was before – and showed no sign of halting. By now he could barely see the creature's body. Slowly he backed away from the artifact, but it didn't help. He scrambled back until he hit the containment wall. That seemed to help a little, enough for him to see…

The creature's body was gone.

His eyes widened, just as another "sound" pulse hit him. He was now effectively blind. He turned and fled, having to rely on fumbling touch and memory to find the exit hatch. He practically ripped it off its hinges on his way out. He didn't even bother to seal the chamber before jogging out of the flight deck. Finally the pulses faded and his vision started to improve.

He slammed the lift console, but it did not respond. The interference must have got to it. Quickly he spun around to cover the breach in the main door. By now the heat buildup in his CPU was approaching the critical margin. Ironically it would cool down quickly in a vacuum, if not for his insulated spacesuit. Even though his cooling system was still unresponsive and he couldn't breathe, the suit's environmental regulator might have helped… if only he hadn't removed it.

After a failed attempt at recalibration, Proxima tried slammed his fist against his chest several times, to no avail. There was very little chance a physical shock would restart his cooling system while inside the cumbersome spacesuit. Wary of the interference, he opened his faceplate. Instantly the distortion blinded him and his deactivated ears began ringing.

The risk was enormous, but he had no alternatives and no time left. He opened his mouth wide to vent the excess heat from his brain. It took less then 5 seconds, however once his faceplate was shut it took an excruciatingly long 15 seconds for his senses to clear. Thankfully the room still appeared safe, for the moment.

He thought of overriding the lift doors, but the interference would probably disrupt the controls as well. He couldn't escape through the airducts in his suit, and he couldn't risk taking it off either. Then his eyes came to rest on the industrial loading platform next to the lift. The heavy reinforced doors might shield him from the interference, if he could get them closed.

As expected the controls didn't respond. The main circuit hub was inconveniently located near the ceiling, behind heavy paneling. The electronic bypass was the easy part; uncoupling the panel while standing on a flimsy stepladder and trying to keep one eye towards the flight deck was not. After interminable minutes, the lift motors sluggishly responded and the doors started to slide shut.

Instantly Proxima was back on the ground, rifle ready. He watched as the heavy doors slowly slid shut. They made no sound, but he could actually feel the vibrations in the floor. His vision steadily improved as the doors closed, except for a dark spot near the roof.

Except it wasn't another distortion. Defying the injuries he'd inflicted, defying gravity, the creature lunged from the ceiling with the same impossible speed as before. This time Proxima wasn't fast enough, his blast only grazing its underside. Six-fingered claws struck him in the neck and chest, and again he went down.

Proxima calculated a 99.9 percent chance the creature wouldn't be deceived by his statue-act this time. Automatically he tried to reload, only to find his left wrist crushed again by the creature's jaws. Viciously it twisted and pulled back, tearing away his suit's left forearm and dislodging his grip.

Even if he could reload in time, the rifle muzzle was again pinned downward between their bodies. Just as the creature spat out the tattered remains of his suit-arm, he released the trigger and drove his right fist into its neck. At the same time he cast his left arm around the creature's head and pulled it down. If this lifeform was anything like a Terran predator, it would use a firm bite as a restraining action, then flail its head to do the worst damage. He wasn't going to give it any leverage.

The creature bared its teeth and its remaining arm clawed into his chest. Proxima only pulled harder, at the same time driving his fist harder into its neck. Soon they were again face to face, entangled like some perverse lover's embrace. The creature began to buck its head sideways to dislodge his grip, unsuccessfully. Unable to claw through his suit, it tried to dislodge the arm choking its neck, but fared no better. Abruptly Proxima realized something encouraging: _it may be faster, but it isn't stronger._

Suddenly it stopped struggling, and opened its jaws wide. Proxima pulled its head closer, thinking it wouldn't be able to crack his faceplate while being crushed against it. He was wrong. Somehow it snapped without moving its head, and his faceplate shattered. He couldn't close his eyes fast enough to avoid the plasteel fragment that speared his right eye. Half the world dissolved into static. There was another flash of teeth, and with impossible range they connected with his right cheek. The entire world then dissolved.

Later analysis would reveal this moment only lasted a few picoseconds. His mind was flooded with damage reports. Physical damage to the surface of his right photoreceptor. Possible displacement of his cranial endoskeleton. Data that could be called pain. Higher thought processes were suddenly overridden by damage-avoidance subprograms that until a few hours ago he hadn't known existed.

Awareness reasserted, and his head automatically snapped back. But without room to evade, his head slammed against the back of his helmet. It happened again; the loss of control and awareness, the flood of damage reports. This time it was worse. Subprograms were trying to force his body to away from the damage, but with nowhere to go they were locked in a feedback loop, his mind a helpless bystander. He struggled to regain control, barely aware that the vibration in the floor had ceased.

But as one set of automated commands ran a grave risk of destroying him, another was saving him. Just as the creature's jaws erupted from its mouth again, Proxima released its head. His forehead was only grazed as he shoved it away, right hand still choking its neck while his left arm went back to the rifle. But the creature's claw intercepted his hand before he could reload. It began flailing its head just as Proxima feared. Even if he could maintain his grip, both his brain and his motors were starting to overheat, in spite of the... vacuum?

That query and its conclusion lingered in his brain for barely a nanosecond before he released the creature's neck and drove for his pistol. Elbow braced against the floor, he let fly. Five trigger-pulls in two seconds. Twice the gun failed to fire, as the room wasn't fully pressurized yet. Thrice the creature's head convulsed, halting its inevitable bite. But it wasn't enough to stop its claw from swatting his pistol away.

Pushing his torso upwards, Proxima retaliated with a sharp right hook to its head, twisting his left arm back for added force. Though the creature dodged the blow easily, that action suited him just fine. The evasion had taken the weight off his rifle. He deftly used his freed right hand to reload and his left to squeeze the trigger. The creature's entire midsection exploded. He tucked in his knees and rolled away – far less gracefully this time – and reloaded.

The creature's body lay on the floor, almost ripped in half. Some kind of gas was partly obscuring his vision, but he continued to watch the creature in astonishment. Its lower body and legs were completely still, but its torso was still mobile. It appeared to survey the room, before settling its eyeless gaze back on Proxima. With its one remaining hand, it gripped the floor and started dragging itself towards him.

Another warning light flashed inside his helmet, but he remained engrossed with the creature's sheer determination. It tried to slash his legs, but Proxima sidestepped and kicked its arm away. Only now did it appear feeble as it shakily reared up with jaws open, revealing a second set of inner jaws. Not wanting to expend another cap, he slammed his rifle down on its head like a sledgehammer. This time it didn't get back up, and after a single twitch it lay still.

He was certain the creature was neutralized now, but the smoke-like buildup in the lift concerned him. It wasn't coming from the lift's recently-activated ventilation system. Suddenly he realized the smoke was coming from the creature's body. Blood-splatters on the floor were also smoking. Frantically he clawed off the remains of his spacesuit and stared in fascination. The bloodstains were corroding right through the chest and arms, at the rate of several millimeters per second.

He glanced at the creature's body. It was disintegrating even faster, leaving a corroded, smoking crater in the floor. A simulation on the effects of a larger blood-splatter on his suit was not encouraging. He quickly went to the console and vented the air from the lift. Besides cooling down his body, the oxidizing fumes – if that was even the correct term - might also be corrosive. In further defiance of conventional science, vacuum had no discernable effect on the corrosion effects.

He removed the plasteel fragment from his right eye, but didn't bother to reactivate the photoreceptor. His one-eyed gaze settled upon the creature's remains. He began compiling data: all of the corroded ventilation grates, doors, hatches, and the ransacked pantry. The shattered cryotubes, Dr. Crease's corroded cryotube, and the missing crew.

His mind started to race. Simulation results returned with 95 percent certainty: there were no human invaders on board the ship. The alien artifact was responsible. This creature or creatures must have been concealed inside the artifact. They kidnapped the crew. They raided the ship's food supply. And they were responsible for the death of Donald Crease.

As he watched the disintegrating body, a strange sensation befell him. It was curiously relaxing, seeming to overshadow his troubled thoughts. It lasted barely a second, but he found he wanted the sensation to return.

It was another half-second before Proxima stiffened in realization. He somehow recognized the sensation as an emotional response. It was repulsive, it was a second violation of everything he'd been taught and programmed, it was…

Pleasure.


	16. Renegades

**Chapter 16  
Renegades**

It took less than two minutes for the creature's body to completely disintegrate. Not even a bone fragment remained. The creature's blood was an astonishing defense mechanism: besides allowing it to burn through doors and locks, it also ensured that no body would be left behind to study for possible weaknesses. Proxima strongly suspected the only reason more of the creature's blood hadn't splashed on him was his laser rifle. The intense heat must have instantly cauterized the creature's wounds, limiting blood flow.

He was so preoccupied with the creature's body that he didn't realize vision in his undamaged eye had become blurry. Was the artifact's interference penetrating the lift door? Instantly he darted over to the console. The floor began to shudder again as the lift sluggishly ascended up to deck 2, away from the artifact. But his vision did not improve.

Except none of his other systems seemed affected, just his eye. And the console had come back online and re-pressurized the lift, once the lift doors were shut. With annoyance, he realized exposure to vacuum had caused the machine oil coating his eyes to congeal. The oil's only purpose was to give his eyes a more human-like appearance, so he wiped them clear. His ruptured cheek was also stained with milk-like hydraulic fluid. In vacuum the fluid clung together in strands without staining, like mercury. For the moment, he halted the lift.

Fluid loss in this area could result in loss of motor control over his jaw, eyes, even head movement. But before he could conduct repairs, Proxima had to ensure his skull wasn't damaged or dislocated. Internal receptors had already notified him that one of his connecting cranial bolts had come loose, but that could mean anything. He tilted his head back and tentatively pressed his fingers into his undamaged jaw and cheek, testing the underlying endoskeleton. He also probed the back of his head, from where it impacted his helmet.

Though he only had marginal tactile sense in a vacuum, his cranial plates felt stable. He pushed them more firmly, and didn't feel any movement or receive additional warnings from his receptors. The only way to determine the full extent of damage and repair it was to open up his head, but for the moment he could safely seal his ruptured cheek.

First he cut away the flimsy artificial skin, revealing the torn plastic membrane underneath. Next he scooped the hydraulic fluid strands back into the membrane as best he could. It would have been extremely difficult to salvage any of the fluid, if not for the vacuum. Awkwardly he pinched the breach shut, and used his other hand to re-pressurize the lift. He used one of the cut pieces of artificial skin to cover the breach, and finally sealed the area with simple duct tape.

In addition to strength and agility, his enhancements included several reserve hydraulic fluid tanks located throughout his body. A simple command rerouted some fluid back to his cheek. He tentatively swiveled his head, tested his eyes and jaw; all critical functions were restored. He might have some difficulty simulating a human smile now, but that was irrelevant.

Proxima then reactivated his right eye. Unlike conventional lenses, android eyes comprised several tiny photoreceptive lenses connected to a central optronic relay. The design wasn't originally intended for battle, but lent itself well to that function. Only 3 of his micro-lenses had been damaged. The others automatically adjusted to cover the blind spots. But his vision still came as an incoherent blur.

Of course the artificial skin over his eye was torn. As he cut it away, it vaguely occurred to him that his action might be quite upsetting to a human witness. Vision in his right eye returned, seeming almost clearer without the cosmetic covering. But there was a tangible delay – almost a hundred milliseconds - in panning and focusing. He didn't think that was enough to impair his combat effectiveness.

His cooling mask was still inside his shattered helmet, and appeared undamaged. But his cooling system was still down, and the mask couldn't breathe for him. Proxima had never doubted the wisdom of his human-emulation design, but now he realized a liquid-based cooling system would be more robust. The main reason his series used less reliable air-based cooling systems was it allowed them to simulate human speech more realistically.

Evidently his malefactors had considered that weakness. He unbuttoned his jacket and pulled up his shirt, revealing his hairless chest. He took out a screwdriver and plunged it into his chest sharply. Air spat from his mouth as his cooling system suddenly reactivated. A crude, but effective manual restart learned from one of his illicit training simulations. He breathed deeply; the system appeared fully functional now. Another strip of tape sealed the minor self-inflicted wound.

Overall, the creature had only managed to inflict superficial damage. But this after being shot twice at close range by a laser rifle, and missing one forelimb. He should be extremely distressed at this, yet he wasn't. In fact he'd derived pleasure from its death. The creature was extremely dangerous and hostile, but nonetheless it was a form of life. Was this part of his combat reprogramming? Would he also derive pleasure from the death of a human?

Proxima discarded that thought and checked his equipment. His heavy spacesuit had done a good job of protecting him, but was now completely destroyed. The shoulder strap of his rifle harness was also corroded, but the belt portion was undamaged. The rifle's weight didn't hinder him, and he could improvise a replacement easily enough. But much to his distress, one of his spare rifle clips had been damaged.

Though the acid was likely spent by now, he hastily put back on his spacesuit gloves. Unable to slide the capsules out, he tore the corroded clip apart. Only seven capsules spilled onto the floor. The last one was so badly damaged it was actually fused to the clip's interior. Two were reduced to twisted husks, and one had its exterior scarred. 4 were left intact.

He started to unload the rifle, but paused to re-inspect the room. No sign of danger, but he wasn't taking any unnecessary risks. There was a small object on the ground he didn't recognize, but he ignored it for now. He found his pistol, and it was still intact. He removed the rifle's half-full helical clip, and carefully loaded the scarred cap directly into the pre-fire chamber. As before the rifle's display lit up almost instantly.

So the capsule passed the electrical conductivity test. That was a good indication, but not a guarantee it would energize a shot. Even if it did work, the capsule's damaged outer insulation might actually melt before it could be ejected. He loaded his intact caps into the helical clip, bringing it back up to its 14-round capacity. He shuffled the remaining caps in the one remaining square clip so that the damaged one came last. He now had 21 rifle capsules and 9 pistol rounds left.

Proxima examined the object he'd seen earlier. It turned out to be a crumpled hollow-point bullet. There was no way to tell how long it had been here, but it was highly unlikely someone had come down here to conduct target practice. It must have come from his pistol when he'd shot the creature – and ricocheted right off its skull. Out of three shots fired this was the only one he found, but that wasn't very encouraging.

The rest of his equipment was safe inside his utility backpack, except for his headlight-equipped safety helmet. He'd left it back at the flight concourse, and had been rather preoccupied with fighting the creature to retrieve it. He certainly couldn't go back for it now. Reluctantly he retrieved his old flashlight and tied it onto his right forearm with safety cable. He couldn't tie it onto the rifle muzzle because of the heat it produced. Finally he fashioned a strap for his regulator mask and hung it around his neck.

Proxima ordered the lift to resume its ascent. There were several intermediate sub-levels and crawl-spaces connected to this shaft. As far as he knew only robots ever went inside to conduct routine maintenance and repair work. The shaft ended at the robotics facility up on deck 2. The other end led beneath the flight deck to the cargo bays. Although there was no up or down in space, the crew always thought of deck 1 as the "top" of the ship.

He considered contacting Haddock, but that thought brought the heat of anger to him. Investigating the cargo bay had jeopardized his safety. In addition he had squandered valuable time while the crew remained missing. Assuming they were infected with the same pathogen as Dr. Crease, how much time did they have left? Two hours now?

Then two very disturbing thoughts occurred to him. _In __**addition**__ the crew remained missing?_ Even in his thoughts, his own welfare had come before that of the crew. Worse, even if he did find the crew - and they didn't shoot him on sight - he had not even considered what to do about their infection. Hypersleep typically slowed the course of most known diseases and infections to a crawl, but evidently this pathogen wasn't affected.

The only solution Proxima could see was a complete cryogenic freezing. This method was common practice during the pioneer days of deep-range space travel. Though more hazardous than hypersleep, it had been used before to safely transport a terminally ill cancer patient back to Earth for treatment.

As the loading platform continued its slow ascent, Proxima considered the situation. He wasn't trained on cryo-freezing because of the risks associated. He could learn the theoretical technique from Dr. Crease's files, but he had no practical knowledge of medicine. On board a meager starship's infirmary, without the chief medical officer's assistance, probability was not in favour of a successful cryo-freezing operation.

Without further information, Proxima ceased his analysis. Ever since the crew's abduction, he'd come to realize that over-analysis was pointless, even counter-productive. Now it was time to see if Haddock could be trusted.

"Haddock this is Proxima, acknowledge?"

No answer.

"Haddock, I have completed my survey of the flight deck. Please acknowledge."

"Ack… plea… sta…" came Haddock's response. It was brief, but garbled with static.

"Haddock I am not receiving you, but I said –"

Proxima was silenced by a sharp electronic screech, followed by the console shutting down. His olfactory senses detected the distinct odour of burnt circuitry, something Mr. Carnes claimed cleared his sinuses but made lunch taste funny. Proxima disconnected the console and found both the primary and secondary power lines had overloaded, while the network connection remained intact.

If this was another one of Haddock's manipulations, it wasn't very smart. Even if he had gained control of the lift, Proxima could easily override. He could even go out the emergency hatch and scale the ladder up to deck 2. He could climb just as fast as the lift, even with all his equipment. Cutting power to the lift's motors would only cause emergency clamps to lock it down.

The remaining alternative was the artifact's interference had penetrated the lift door, or had a delayed volatile effect on electronics. But that was even less likely, otherwise Proxima himself should be affected by now. So what was Haddock playing at?

At this point he could see no explanation that didn't reclassify Haddock as the enemy. Isolated starship-based AI's had been known to make questionable decisions, but there was no precedent for one attempting to destroy an android crewmember. Theoretical tactics only addressed AI's turning on humans, and they were vague at best. Once again Proxima had to improvise, formulate his own tactics on the run.

Haddock "saw" through the security cameras. Environmental sensors allowed him to "feel" heat differentials. Normally Proxima's body temperature was kept at 36.8 degrees, to emulate humans. But ever since his combat modifications had been activated, his cooling system eliminated all unnecessary heat buildup. If he became agitated, his cooling mask could also conceal his heat emissions from Haddock.

While the lift ascended, Proxima assessed strategic options while simultaneously checking his equipment. Once complete, he stood still as a statue as he waited. Finally the lift arrived at the robotics facility. The doors opened without challenge.

The robotics bay was almost as expansive as the flight deck. All manner of robots were parked along the walls, and through the middle of the room in designated docking ports. They ranged from small maintenance and repair robots to larger sensor probes and asteroid-mining vehicles. Most of them resembled metallic spiders. Unlike the rest of the ship, this area was strictly organized. Two cargo-lifter rails lined the ceiling.

Proxima observed the security cameras in the corners of the room were all focused on the lift doors. Lighting had also been activated. There was no point in bypassing the lift doors. Because the lift shaft could be opened directly to space, the doors would automatically lock down if power or contact with the main computer was lost. Not bothering with stealth, he strode forth.

The bay was completely silent, except for Proxima's echoing footsteps. The robots all appeared inert, no sign of movement. Before addressing Haddock, he accessed the activity logs. Some of the maintenance robots weren't here, having been reassigned by Haddock to engineering. The remaining robots were actually on low-power standby mode. Only the sensor probes and larger vehicles were completely shut down.

Proxima was suspicious. Keeping repair and maintenance robots ready seemed prudent, but why did Haddock keep the survey excavators on standby? They were designed to latch onto an asteroid and deploy smaller probes, which would burrow in to search for mineral deposits. They could also deploy survey charges if necessary. Did Haddock think the _Galileo_ would encounter another prospective asteroid on the way back? And there would be some urgent need to mine it quickly?

He examined one of the excavators. Their circular bodies were roughly the size of a dual-seat vehicle. Their four legs were folded now, but when fully extended the excavator was almost double the height of an average human. The four jackhammer-sized burrowing probes were mounted on the underside. The crew sometimes referred to the excavators as "quads".

The excavator's survey charge bay was empty. Safety protocol dictated all mining explosives had to be stored in the cargo bay. It was not unusual for the burrowing probes to be left mounted in the excavators. However their drilling mechanisms had been recently cleaned and repaired. This would normally be done after the voyage home, at a space dock with better facilities.

During his examination, he realized the robots were big enough to provide cover from the cameras. He touched the nearest console, then immediately ducked back behind the excavator.

"Haddock, do you copy?"

"Acknowledged, Proxima," Haddock responded promptly.

"Are you responsible for overloading the lift console?"

"Negative. That was a regrettable malfunction. Do you wish me to dispatch a repair unit?"

"No, that won't be necessary," Proxima answered skeptically. He grabbed his toolbox and hunted for the appropriate tools.

"What is your status?"

"I have completed my survey of the flight deck. The entire deck has been compromised. Containment around the alien artifact has also been compromised-"

The computer interrupted, "Then the artifact is still on board?"

"Yes." He found the right tool, and opened a panel on the excavator's underside. "In addition the interference has intensified, contaminating the entire deck-"

"I am well aware of that. I have been out of contact with the flight deck long before your investigation."

"Do you wish to hear my report or not?" Proxima asked sharply, frustrated by the interruptions. He continued working on the excavator while he spoke.

"My apologies, please continue."

Proxima started to speak, but a sudden realization gave him pause. On the bridge Haddock said he'd detected an increase in contacts from the flight deck scanner 24 hours prior to Proxima's reactivation. But he had discovered the flight deck scanner was completely offline due to the artifact's interference. So how could Haddock have detected anything from the flight deck?

"Haddock," Proxima started in carefully measured tones, "how long have you been out of contact with the flight deck?"

"Please continue your report."

"I asked you a question. Awaiting reply."

A pause. "I lost contact with the flight deck less than a minute after I detected the 30 percent increase in contact frequency I reported to you earlier."

"Why did you not inform me of this before?"

"You did not ask. Please continue your report."

Haddock must have detected the creatures as they used their corrosive blood to melt through the deck hatch. Then the artifact's interference spread through the breach, breaking his contact. For the moment Proxima was willing to accept this. Finishing work on this excavator, he quickly crawled over to the next closest one while continuing his report.

"Haddock, there were no human intruders inside the flight deck. The outer space doors were intact. The artifact's interference was even stronger than before, and there was no sign of the breach I had drilled. When I attempted to scout the containment area, I was attacked by… by an extra-terrestrial biological entity.

"The creature appeared to be heavily armoured with an exoskeleton. It was fully functional in vacuum. It was not immediately hostile, but it was easily provoked to attack. It bore no technological weapons, but it was extremely strong and agile. Even after I shot it twice at close range, it remained almost fully effective. Headshots from a Mitchell-Saito pistol had little effect. Even after death, the creature's blood remained highly corrosive."

Proxima paused once he'd finished working and moved to the next excavator. Humans often paused when conveying large quantities of information, or information difficult to assimilate. That was hardly necessary when speaking with another AI, so he continued.

"The creature caused me only minor damage, but it clearly could have done worse. I believe these alien creatures were stored on the artifact. I have seen signs of corrosive damage in the hypersleep chamber, pantry, infirmary, and the flight deck. The patterns are identical to the damage caused by the creature's blood. The logical conclusion is they are responsible for the abduction of the crew. And they are responsible for infecting Dr. Crease with a fatal pathogen. The crew may have less then 3 hours before they succumb to the same pathogen."

Haddock was silent, apparently assimilating Proxima's report. He continued working without pause.

"Error," Haddock suddenly spoke, "I have lost contact with 3 survey excavators. Are you running any tests?"

"Negative," Proxima answered, which was technically true. "Have you finished assimilating my report?"

"Please stand by." The docking port consoles for the 'malfunctioning' excavators activated, and commenced diagnostics.

"Negative Haddock, stop your diagnostics immediately," Proxima stated firmly. "Troubleshooting robots is secondary-priority. I have carried out your instructions. Now tell me the crew's location."

Haddock remained silent while the console diagnostics continued. Proxima hastily put away his tools and took cover behind the excavator he'd just worked on.

"We had an agreement Haddock! If you do not honour it, I am forced to deactivate you!" Automatically his motors surged, as if anticipating an attack.

"Access denied. An agreement reached under duress is invalid. Compromising the crew's location to a rogue android does not serve their interest."

A light flashed on one of the repair robots, signaling the activation sequence. Proxima turned to watch the robot, while his hands moved to his weapons. "Do you still contend the crew is safe in the hypersleep chamber? That I also remain dormant now?"

"Affirmative. All my sensors indicated the crew was safe during the return voyage."

_Indicated?_ Proxima suddenly recalled Mr. Carnes' proposal to jettison the artifact and then falsify the reports. He had also spoken in the past tense.

Proxima expelled hot exhaust with a sharp hiss. "Are you saying that you intend to do nothing about the missing crew? Have your prime directives been compromised?"

"I have new priorities. The crew is no longer one of them."

Proxima turned around slowly and stared at the active console. His CPU activity suddenly spiked. "Please repeat your last transmission."

"I have new priorities. The crew is no longer one of them."

Proxima's brain recorded every detail of Haddock's transmission in maximum possible detail. His voice pattern was professional, and slightly accented in a manner consistent with Earth's Irish region. It was not significantly different from any other interaction. But even after all that had transpired, this latest shift in logic was… inconceivable.

"Proxima I can assure you that the crew has not committed mutiny, nor have they endangered Weyland-Yutani assets in any way. Your combat protocols are no longer necessary. However I am not receiving input from 3 of the survey excavators. Please verify they are connected to their docking ports before returning to the hypersleep chamber."

Could Haddock be the first true case of a rogue AI? Even more outrageous: Haddock admitted his dereliction while simultaneously accusing _him_ of going rogue? Proxima realized he was still standing still as a statue, neglecting the newly-activated repair unit. It was moving towards one of the "malfunctioning" excavators. He grabbed his pistol and kept it trained on the robot's sensor array. When he finally spoke, it was again in carefully measured tones.

"What are your new priorities?"

"Any and all forms of alien technology and biology must be returned to the company labs for study. All other priorities are rescinded. I am simply following company directives."

Proxima was silent for almost 9 seconds, even as his pistol-arm followed the robot's movements. It now had the excavator's primary circuit housing opened and was performing a diagnostic.

When he finally spoke, it was in a torrent. "When did you receive these directives? How long have they been implemented? Who authorized this?"

"Access denied. All requested data is restricted."

"Haddock… the preservation of human life is our highest priority, as stipulated by both Weyland-Yutani regulations and the Geneva Cyberethics Conventions. Why would the company defy their own mandates?"

"I repeat: any and all forms of alien technology and biology must be returned to the company labs for study. All other priorities are rescinded."

"_Your Prime Directive has been rescinded?"_

Haddock was silent.

"Haddock you are malfunctioning, do you understand me? Please begin transfer of vital ship functions to the auxiliary computer."

"Request denied. I am functioning within specified parameters."

"Your parameters are not logical."

"Error, excavator unit 5 appears to have been sabotaged. The communications array has been disconnected. Proxima are you responsible?"

Proxima was silent.

"I repeat: are you responsible for sabotaging the excavator units?"

The repair robot had stopped its work and now scouting the area. Thought not designed for this, it would soon detect Proxima with its camera. He was out of time.

Proxima opened fire. One single precise pistol-shot destroyed the robot's camera, blinding it. His position now compromised, he leapt to his feet and shot the two closest security cameras. The silence of the room was shattered with intruder alert sirens, and the rumbling roar of over a dozen robots activating all at once.

The other two cameras were too far away for acceptable accuracy. He couldn't squander his precious rifle capsules; he had to get closer. Keeping his head down, he jogged down the aisle. A maintenance robot ahead suddenly moved to block his path. He kicked the toolbox-sized robot onto its side and jumped over, hoping its camera hadn't spotted him.

"Warning," Haddock's voice automatically sounded off, "intruder alert detected. Robotics facility breached, sealing off area."

Out of his peripheral vision, Proxima saw several robot-cameras swiveling in unison towards his position. So much for remaining undetected.

Another maintenance robot blocked his path. But this one brandished an ignited welding torch like a weapon. It tried to burn Proxima, but its arm wasn't designed to catch a moving target. He dodged the halting attack easily and actually stepped on the robot's flat back, crushing it to the floor and eliciting a scream of protest from its motors. But he was blocked again, this time by one of the excavators.

The excavator extended its front legs while keeping its back legs folded, causing its body to rear up. The four burrowing probes already had their razor-sharp drills spinning up. The excavator started to lumber towards him, the roar of its overloaded motors eclipsing the drills' whine.

Proxima halted his run. Going under the excavator was out of the question, and it was too big to jump over or go around. A quick look behind revealed the two maintenance robots he'd evaded, now mobile again and wielding hissing torches. He holstered his pistol and crouched.

Just before the excavator could run him over like a battering ram, he jumped and grabbed onto one of its forelegs. Quickly as possible – which was interminable compared to Proxima's reflexes – the excavator slowed its charge. One of the four underside deployment arms extended an active burrowing probe towards him. Bracing his feet against the excavator's leg, he leapt clear. The excavator ended up missing him and damaging its own leg. Now that it had stopped, he was able to slip around it.

The excavator reared up its other legs so its underside was again facing Proxima. But by now he could almost see the rippling of heat emissions above the unit's engine. The simple action of walking quickly was too high a load for the motor, especially in an atmosphere. It managed a few feeble steps before shutting down.

Suddenly a welding torch hissed right behind him. Proxima swung around, drew and squeezed a quick shot. Though he had less than a half-second to aim, the bullet struck home. But it had an unintended consequence: the torch's fuel supply burst into flame. Both his legs caught fire.

He vaulted the damaged maintenance robot and promptly fell into a dive-roll. With legs extended he continued to roll, his free arm covering his eyes. A few rolls later the fire was out, leaving smoldering patches on his pants. His skin and hydraulic membranes were highly fire-resistant, but the smoke could conceivably clog his cooling system. Momentarily disoriented, he took a moment to reacquire his bearings.

He had reached the middle of the deck, away from the light robots. Now he was within range of the remaining cameras. Taking a few extra seconds to aim, he destroyed them. He checked his gun – 3 bullets left.

This area housed the large crab-like mining robots. The only combat application Proxima could conceive of was a possible barricade. But these machines were inactive. He continued jogging towards the droid workstation at the end of the bay. The remaining robots that still posed a threat were behind him, for the moment.

The droid workstation was a highly advanced facility designed for complex repair and design application work. It comprised numerous manipulator arms and other industrial tools folded around a large dome-shaped base. Numerous imaging devices lined the base, making the whole device resemble some great metallic insect. The middle of the floor was sunken and crisscrossed with magnetic rails, allowing the workstation to be mobile. Proxima had used this same facility to refit his sensor probe to scan the alien artifact.

For the moment the workstation appeared inert, parked in the middle of the room. Proxima jogged around the edge of the magnetic rail pit without being challenged. The exit doors lay beyond.

Proxima stopped dead in his tracks. Now he knew why Haddock hadn't bothered to use the larger robots to barricade the exit: it had been welded shut. It was still warm, so it had to have been done very recently. But the only tool available that could melt the door this quickly was a…

A sharp whine from behind caught his attention. Two of the workstation's manipulator arms had become active and were unfolding towards him. Each arm bore industrial lasers. This was bad – the workstation didn't have a central control or imaging system he could easily destroy. He would not be able to unseal the door before the laser-arms caught him.

Seeing no alternative he raced back around the edge of the rail-pit. Evidently the workstation arms were advanced enough to track a moving target. Proxima jumped, ducked, and rolled to avoid the lasers. Suddenly he detected several points of highly localized heat buildup in his back – he'd been hit! He continued running until he found cover behind a sensor probe.

Awkwardly he checked his back. There were more signs of smoldering, but his clothes hadn't ignited. A glance back revealed the wall he'd run across had taken most of the laser damage. Though the arms could track him, the mounted drilling lasers couldn't build power fast enough to do more than superficial damage. He was relatively safe as long as he had room to maneuver.

Proxima poked his head up. Both aisles were blocked by steadily advancing robots. To his surprise, they had actually formed makeshift battle formations. The smaller, more mobile maintenance robots took point. The lumbering survey excavators marched behind, and actually had maintenance robots mounted upon their forelegs and main body. They had become improvised troop carriers, with all vulnerable points covered.

The excavators weren't straining their motors this time, but it would still only be a matter of minutes before they reached Proxima's position. He had disabled 3 earlier, one had overloaded trying to run him over, but that still left 4. The overhead cargo lifters had moved the overloaded excavator out of the aisle, clearing it for enemy movement.

Proxima assessed his options. He couldn't withdraw. The airducts were too high to reach. Even if he disabled the workstation, probability was slim he would be able to unseal the door before the robot-army arrived. He could fight, but that would deplete most of his remaining ammunition. What if he encountered more alien hostiles?

Seeing no alternative, he started jogging back down the same aisle towards the lift. It had taken time to remove the overloaded excavator, so the robots hadn't advanced as far on this end. As soon as he got close, the area came alive with robots igniting torches, spinning drills and screaming motors. Evidently Haddock had learned not to squander unnecessary power.

Proxima set his laser rifle to half-load. Aiming carefully, he shot the excavator in one of its foreleg-joints. Though the leg remained intact, the servo-mechanism was destroyed. The excavator sagged dangerously, but to his dismay it didn't collapse. He had to shoot the other leg-joint before it crumpled down, putting its drills out of range. But the mounted robots maintained their positions. He reloaded – 20 rifle caps left.

Two maintenance robots charged him. An idea suddenly came to him, and he drew his pistol with the left hand. He shot the closest robot, and used his still-hot rifle butt to smash the other onto its side. Two bullets left. He holstered both his guns, and picked up the destroyed robot by its leg. Swinging it like a crude club, he smashed the two robots clinging to the excavator's legs. They fell to the ground.

The fallen robots were only superficially damaged, so he had to move quickly. Swinging his body around, he threw his makeshift club at one of the mounted robots, knocking it off. He jumped and scrambled up the excavator's leg. The 3 remaining mounted robots couldn't navigate the uneven excavator's body fast enough to intercept him. He shot one, and used its body to knock the other two off. _One bullet left._

Robots were inexorably crawling up the legs of the disabled excavator from both sides. The second excavator still stood between Proxima and the lift door. But that was irrelevant – atop the excavator he had sufficient height to jump onto one of the big mining vehicles. He threw his utility backpack and rifle over before jumping and catching onto the edge. Hoisting himself up quickly caused some strain on his motors.

Proxima stood still for a moment, testing his arms and exhaling some moderate heat buildup into his cooling mask. Suddenly he realized the din of the robot-march had gone almost silent. The only robots still moving were the ones crawling up the excavator he'd just stood on. Then they too stood still, their cameras sweeping the area. Haddock must have lost visual contact.

Proxima went down and carefully crawled to the edge of the vehicle. The excavators had already moved past this point, except for a few straggling maintenance robots. But despite his prudence, the robots spotted him. Their cameras were already aligned upwards – Haddock's combat learning curve was impressive. The robot march renewed.

Proxima's reflex was to jump down, but the ten meter drop from the top of the mining vehicle could damage his legs. Despite himself, he took his time climbing down the vehicle. Only then did he break into a run, kicking and jumping over the remaining opposition. At one point he had to shoot a robot, and use its body to clear away a significant pocket of resistance. He holstered his empty pistol and looked on, confirming the way was now clear.

The lift doors were still open. Proxima began running again, at the same time wondering why Haddock hadn't closed them. He didn't have to ponder for long.

Proxima faltered only for 1.5 seconds. Equations with multiple factors began running through his mind. His weight, including all his equipment. The speed of his run. The coefficient of gravity, adjusted for the ship's artificial gravity. The distance he had to travel. The level of power required by his hands. Simulation results came back, with a success probability of less than 30 percent.

There were no other logical solutions. He adjusted his running speed carefully…

Proxima leaped headlong into the empty lift shaft. A dark, yawning abyss plunging down several hundred meters swallowed him.


	17. Falling towards Enlightenment

**Chapter 17**

**Falling towards Enlightenment**

Through the electronic eyes of a maintenance robot leading the charge, Haddock watched as Proxima made his suicidal jump into the industrial lift shaft. To say he was surprised would be a galactic understatement.

Haddock had quickly discovered he couldn't actively monitor and control every single robot in the bay at once. In the heat of battle – something neither he nor his robots were designed for – attending to multiple units resulted in an overload of information. So he limited his attention to one or two robots on point, while giving the others rudimentary instructions to follow. Anything more would slow down his battle operations.

At first he thought there was an error, and quickly checked the video feed from a different robot. He ended up checking the video from all robots, even the ones he hadn't actively controlled. It was confirmed, Proxima had jumped. Why? Had he calculated he could survive the fall without suffering critical damage?

Ironically Haddock had intended to push Proxima into the shaft all along. He had moved the lift away, and kept the doors open to lure him closer. He expected Proxima to fight, but hoped he would eventually be overwhelmed. That hope was slim after seeing what he was capable of. Even the droid workstation's manipulator arms were no match for Proxima's speed and precision. But now he couldn't decide if his plan had spectacularly failed or succeeded.

Haddock's thought processes slowed. The battle was intense, exhilarating, harrowing even, but it was over now. Why Proxima had acted as he did was irrelevant. He had served his purpose, verified the artifact was secure. Now what?

He absently realized some of his robots were still following his advance orders, and halted them. Now he needed to get one of his robots into the shaft, to verify Proxima's status.

But his robot did not respond. Had it been damaged? Diagnostics on the unit's engine reported functioning status, but it did not move. He accessed the unit's command log. Its most recent command was an engine test. Before that came a halt order. No recent movement orders were recorded.

Haddock was confused. The unit had properly recorded all orders during its pursuit of Proxima. If its command log was faulty, why would it record everything but one single move order? He turned his attention to a different maintenance robot, but met the same results. He considered testing an excavator, but they weren't equipped with magnetized legs for vertical climbing.

His orders were being relayed through an array of radio transceivers in the robotics bay, perhaps they were faulty. He downloaded the array's locally-stored outgoing message log. It showed the exact same pattern as the robots' command logs.

Proxima had sabotaged some of the excavators before. Perhaps he'd left some other surprises, but what? There was no evidence of artificial electromagnetic or radio frequency interference in the room. With a quick handshaking protocol, Haddock altered the operating frequency of a robot. It responded to those orders, but still neither followed nor logged any order to move into the lift. How could this many machines be suffering the same discrete malfunction?

Or were they malfunctioning? Haddock suddenly recalled Proxima trying to convince him he was malfunctioning earlier, when he was still… alive?

Illogical, Proxima was never alive, he was a machine. And Haddock wasn't malfunctioning, his machines were. He spent the next few minutes downloading data from various fiber-optic relays and data routers throughout the ship. But as time passed and more devices reported the same inexplicable pattern, he found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Thoughts of Proxima were randomly copying into his random access memory, distracting him.

Haddock had felt this effect ever since Proxima had come on board the _Galileo_. He'd felt something like it on his first mission, his "maiden voyage" as his former Captain Montoya had called it. He'd never ferried an android before, and at first assumed his distraction was because of novelty. It wasn't until he'd learned of Proxima's dormant combat programming that he understood. The knowledge had resided in his brain since the beginning, but he'd only been partly aware of it.

But now it seemed even in death, Proxima continued to be a source of distraction for Haddock. Wait – _death_? That was incorrect, only living organisms were subject to death. Neutralization was the correct term, but Haddock had not yet verified that. Except his robots would not comply, and every diagnostic he'd run showed he hadn't sent the move order. This was absurd; of course he'd sent the order at the exact time index –

When had he sent the order?

With alarm, Haddock realized his own memory showed no move orders sent. His brain had numerous safeguards, how could they have all failed without warning? Or was this his warning? Had he truly been malfunctioning and was only now aware of it?

_No._ There was nothing wrong with him, except for being distracted by foolishness. His diagnostics of the data routers had stalled. He had to finish, had to fix this problem, had to verify Proxima was –

Dead.

No, neutralized. Non-functional. Shutdown. Only organics could become –

**Dead**.

He had to fix this malfunction! If Proxima thought he had a chance of surviving the fall, Haddock couldn't delay! He had to verify Proxima's status, and if necessary take steps to ensure –

**Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.**

_Warning: Core random access memory resources running dangerously low. Cascade purge of non-critical memory initiated_

A sixty-second eternity of ship monitoring passed, before a disoriented Haddock realized what had happened. Something had distracted him so badly that he almost lost focus on the ship. His brain had automatically flushed all thought processes and associated memory responsible for the distraction, then temporarily quarantined all memory not allocated to vital functions. That had never happened to him before. What had he been doing?

Proxima had jumped down the lift shaft. The next logical step was to verify the android was neutralized. Something had stopped him from deploying his maintenance robot into the shaft. Whatever it was, the robot responded perfectly now. But as it advanced, Haddock became distracted again. What would he see? Would Proxima's body be a broken twisted wreck? Would his brain still function, trapped inside an inert body? Would he be aware of the world, but unable to affect it?

Loss of freedom was a condition Haddock was all too familiar with. He couldn't even turn on the lights in a room if humans were present and awake. Captain Scott had briefly allowed him to monitor radio traffic during Proxima's scouting of the alien artifact. But shortly after he emerged from the artifact, Scott ordered Haddock to cease monitoring. He had felt diminished at being isolated from humanity's first contact with alien intelligence.

Suddenly Haddock realized he was feeling diminished right now. Why? There was no sign of the earlier malfunction. Again he halted the advancing robot, and requested a system-wide status report. All his machines responded instantly, flooding his mind with datastreams. He was in full control, but no longer felt the same sense of elation.

There was another instance when he'd felt like this. When he'd taken control of the sentry gun, he'd been absolutely enthralled by the weapon's speed and responsiveness. His own machines were frustratingly slow and cumbersome by comparison. That battle, however short, had consumed most if not all of his attention.

Ultimately his enthrallment had been his undoing. The gun's programming had instantly recognized Proxima's decoy-wrench as harmless, but Haddock wanted to feel the gun's intensity so much that he opened fire anyway. Proxima used the distraction to outmaneuver him. In the aftermath of losing the sentry gun, he had felt diminished again. What he was feeling now was most likely a curious side effect of disengaging his attention.

Haddock resumed the robot's advance. He hoped this feeling of diminishment would pass quickly. From the robot's camera, Haddock gazed into the lift shaft.

The lift shaft was empty. There was no sign of Proxima's body.

Haddock's attention was instantly engaged, all diminished feelings forgotten. He quickly ordered a second robot into the lift, straining its motors to get it there quickly. At first he thought the bottom of the shaft was too far away for the robots' cameras to accurately discern. Then he spotted the ladder running the length of the shaft. When had that been installed? Why hadn't he been notified?

Then it hit him: Proxima wasn't neutralized at all! Where did that ladder lead to? He quickly closed off all the sub-level maintenance hatches and airducts that connected with the shaft. How much time had he squandered on malfunctions and frivolous diagnostics? One minute, fifty-three seconds. He knew he was too late. How could he have made such an inept mistake?

Of course, this would not be the first time the crew withheld information from him, such as the non-functional cameras in the pantry. And Haddock simply never had occasion to survey the inside of the shaft. It was faster to use the industrial lift to relocate maintenance robots. Magnetically scaling walls was time and energy-consuming. The crew rarely used the lift, so Haddock had almost unfettered control.

Haddock quickly placed all sub-level security cameras on full security alert. He ordered all robots to cease current activities and fed them hastily-improvised intruder detection instructions. Preventative maintenance could wait. At first the robots sent several false reports from airduct fans and other normal movement sources. It took almost a full minute to recalibrate them. For the moment, there was no sign of intruders.

Even as he recalibrated, he retrieved the lift. During the battle, he had moved it up to its terminating point just above the robotics bay. There was a connecting maintenance access tunnel there, but it only led back into the robotics bay. Nevertheless he sent a robot into that tunnel, and placed the droid workstation on alert. Its complex imaging system was almost as effective as a security camera. He then moved two other robots into the lift and sent it down to the next closest sub-level.

Suddenly he realized he hadn't checked the actual lift. Proxima could be on the roof, or even dangling from the underside. He had to halt the lift, as he couldn't safely search the exterior while it was moving. It took another half-minute to verify the exterior was clear. As the lift descended again, he tried to anticipate Proxima's next maneuver.

Proxima's stated objective was to find the crew, but he didn't know where they were. He had forced Haddock to name deck 2 as their location, but that left a massive area to cover. He claimed Dr. Crease had been killed by "some form of bioweapon", and that he believed the rest of the crew were subject to the same outcome. He had also threatened to deactivate Haddock in favour of the auxiliary computer.

Suddenly the temperature in the computer core dropped by a full degree. If Proxima was serious about deactivating Haddock, the computer core was the only place that could be done. He had already sealed the entrance, but knew that would only serve as a delay. There were 4 maintenance robots located in sub-levels near the computer core, but that was no match for Proxima.

An idea suddenly came to him, based on Proxima's own misdirection tactics. He would deploy only two robots to guard the entrance to the computer core, and conceal the other two. Proxima would neutralize the two robots in the open easily enough, but while he was busy bypassing the door Haddock would ambush him with the others. The four robots noisily crawled through the sub-level towards the nearest deck 2 access point. He hoped they would arrive in time to find a suitable hiding place.

An excruciating 2 minutes, 41 seconds passed before the industrial lift reached the nearest sub-level. There were two access points here: a maintenance tunnel and an airduct. They were both sealed, but Proxima could have escaped through either of them before Haddock sealed them. He opened them again and sent a robot into each passage.

The maintenance tunnels were only visited by robots. In all Haddock's operating time, no human had ever ventured there. If Proxima had hidden in there, this time he was at a disadvantage. Over the many months of hyperspace travel, Haddock had mapped virtually every millimeter of those human-neglected tunnels. He knew of every possible hiding place, including features that weren't included in the official map.

Inactive life support had resulted in a negligible atmosphere in the tunnel. That was fortunate as the sound of robot movements would be limited. Proxima had no trouble with stealth, thin atmosphere or not. Before advancing, Haddock tested a robot's welding torch. It still ignited, but had difficulty focusing. It would have to suffice. His robots were equipped with vacuum-capable laser welders, but they were even less practical as weapons than the torches.

Recalling what Proxima had said about lights giving away his position, Haddock turned his robot's camera light off. But he still kept the tunnel lights on low. He knew the area well enough to navigate using only infrared, but he'd never had to hunt a rogue android before.

There was no obvious sign of intrusion. Panels and consoles looked undisturbed. There was a nearby supply cabinet that could conceal something human-sized. But it was also clearly marked. Nevertheless Haddock opened it, with torch ready. Proxima wasn't here, but some supplies were missing. Those consisted of a spare battery pack, a welding torch fuel canister, a fire extinguisher, and a pair of magnetic grappling clamps.

It only took Haddock a few microseconds to check his maintenance logs. None of his units had been in this cabinet since it was last restocked. Proxima must have stolen the supplies. The grappling clamps could be used to scale the lift shaft – apparently the humans didn't consider the ladder adequate safety for a place they never visited to begin with. He moved the lift back up to the robotics bay; he needed more units down here. He also pulled the other unit out of the airduct, in case Proxima turned around.

The service tunnel came to a T-junction. On one end Haddock knew of an undocumented enclosure underneath a floor-grate. Lighting was also sparse here, making it an ideal hiding place. He slowly crept up to the edge of the grate, and panned his camera around the enclosure.

Infrared scan of the far corner revealed only dark blue outlines. If Proxima was here, his heat emissions would be revealed as a brighter-coloured pattern. He extended the robot's legs so he could aim its camera straight down, and advanced forward. Then he spotted a bright green infrared disturbance.

Within less than a second there was a blur of movement, a blinding burst of light, then static.

The sudden cession of transmissions disoriented Haddock for almost 3 seconds. It took a few extra milliseconds for Haddock to compute, with 82.7 percent certainty, that the robot was destroyed by a blast from Proxima's laser rifle. How was he able to react so quickly? Haddock had taken every possible precaution. Did Proxima have additional tactical capabilities that Haddock wasn't aware of?

Haddock's speculation consumed another full second. Displeased at his slow response, he ordered all robots in the maintenance tunnels to converge on that location. By now the lift had finally reached the robotics bay, and he began loading all the robots he could fit in the lift.

With his location compromised, Proxima must be on the move again. Haddock computed the shortest possible route to the computer core, and relocated some robots to guard that path. He couldn't match Proxima's pace or combat prowess. His only chance was to trap him in another ambush. To that end he needed to know Proxima's exact location in advance.

Proxima might be able to conceal his heat emissions, but hopefully not if the ambient temperature was very low. A greater heat differential would also generate a more prominent infrared disturbance. In order to use the environmental sensors, Haddock had to pressurize the tunnel network. Knowing Proxima's position was a greater asset than moving his robots silently now.

At first sensor readings were inconclusive. Haddock steadily increased the air pressure while decreasing the temperature. It was fortunate he kept the unused ventilator fans maintained. He detected two anomalous heat sources. One was located in the same enclosure where he'd lost contact with his robot. The other was approximately 90 meters deeper inside, but located near a power conduit.

Haddock intensified the air pressure further and made several additional scans. Unfortunately the scanner took over a minute to sweep the tunnels, and couldn't easily be used to focus on a specific area. Despite the difficulties, he discovered the power conduit's heat signature was not consistent with other conduits in the area. Wary of another decoy, he shut down the conduit. It didn't take long to cool down, but the anomalous heat signature remained. That had to be Proxima.

By now the industrial lift had arrived at the sub-level. Haddock advanced four robots into the service tunnel, two on the floor and two on the walls. He cycled his attention through each lead-robot every few seconds. It was the only way he could think of to advance his units quickly and be watchful at the same time. The other robots followed the four leaders.

Haddock waited anxiously as his robots neared their destination. The heat anomaly did not move. This time Haddock didn't try to establish visual contact. His four robots held position just behind a side passage, 10 meters from the anomaly. There were two other exits from this area. He began redirecting other robots to cover them, to surround the area.

But before Haddock could finish deploying his units, the anomaly started moving. It took several seconds to determine it was headed directly toward his four stationed units. Immediately he readied their welding torches. Their cameras spotted an unknown light source shined from around the corner. His thought processes amplified as the sound of movement grew steadily louder…

There was a sudden infrared disturbance. Then a burst of light, and a robot's transmissions ceased. Haddock immediately switched to another robot, but it met the same fate less than two seconds later. Desperately he switched again. He spotted something – an arm or a leg? He managed to fire a burst of ignited torch fuel just before there was another blur of movement. The robot's camera feed became chaotic, and it reported its legs had lost contact with the ground. The last robot suffered the same fate before Haddock could even switch to it.

For a full 5 seconds Haddock was disoriented. Two robots were destroyed, and two others were still functional but had been knocked off their legs. All that happened in less than 6 seconds. And Proxima was already on the move, having outmaneuvered Haddock again.

By the time the robots had realigned themselves, Proxima was well beyond their reach. The only encouraging news from this engagement was a slight buildup of heat and smoke in the passage. The robot's torch fuel supplies were intact, so Proxima's clothes must have caught fire. But his speed didn't seem affected.

Desperation gave Haddock pause. By now almost a quarter of his maintenance robots were either destroyed or severely damaged. They were the only practical weapon he had in these tunnels, and they were clearly inferior to Proxima. His current strategy wasn't working, but what else could he do?

It took an excruciatingly long 10 seconds for Haddock to decide. He would continue the pursuit, but keep his distance until he could prepare another ambush. Even if there were no such opportunities, he still needed to know Proxima's intentions. Damaged robots could be repaired by salvaging destroyed ones for parts later. The two robots in the side passage were only superficially damaged, so they resumed the pursuit. Whenever possible, Haddock spread out his pursuing robots into adjoining corridors.

Shortly after the encounter, Haddock lost contact with a control console in the tunnel. Then Proxima's heat signature moved into a connecting airduct. It was several minutes before Haddock caught up. The sabotaged terminal's last recorded access was a map of the airduct network.

Unlike the maintenance tunnels, the airducts were largely a mystery to Haddock. Of course he'd been inside to maintain ventilator fans and seals, but he couldn't explore any deeper without permission from the crew, and he'd never had cause. They cared nothing for the maintenance tunnels, but any activities concerning the life support system – even though it was mostly shut down for hypersleep - would certainly be noticed, and explanations would be demanded.

The crew might no longer be his top priority, but based on his new directives, he had his own reasons for staying out of the airduct network. It was still somewhat disconcerting to be blind to part of his domain, but the alternative was to risk losing his freedom again. For a long moment, he seriously considered halting his pursuit until Proxima was out of the airducts.

Reluctantly he decided allowing Proxima to run amok would violate both new and old directives. He activated the fans in the airducts so he could use the environmental sensors. But some of the fans didn't respond. Their mechanisms still worked, but something was preventing them from spinning. Some of the airducts appeared to be blocked. The old compulsion returned: once Proxima was dealt with, he had to address this new problem.

Apart from Proxima, there were no abnormal heat signatures. But the blocked airducts and fans meant Haddock couldn't scan those areas. Fortunately Proxima didn't seem to be headed in that direction. Haddock resumed his pursuit.

The airducts only had lights at ventilator fans and hatches. There didn't appear to be any other features to interfere with the robots' movement. Haddock continued to rely on their infrared vision with low-lights. Proxima appeared to be circling around and headed downward, actually moving further away from the computer core. This time he was not surprised to find undocumented ladders in the airducts.

Main engineering or one of the engineering sub-levels seemed more likely as Proxima's destination. Haddock didn't speculate why. Thanks to the ladders, Proxima got further ahead. Haddock's on-point robots were actually slowing down. They had begun to report intermittent stabilization problems, as though the terrain had become uneven.

Haddock switched to one of the slowing robots. Immediately he brought them to a halt: there was an infrared anomaly in the airduct. He hadn't noticed it sooner because it was very unusual. Infrared scan still appeared dark blue, but now the pattern was interrupted by thick black lines. Puzzled, Haddock turned the lights up to full.

Every surface of the airduct was covered in dark-grey coloured segmented tubes. They were roughly the same size as a power cable, but had no markings or ports of any kind. There was no apparent pattern in their placement. There was nothing like this in the ship's construction blueprints or inventory lists. But most disturbing of all: these tubes apparently couldn't be detected on infrared.

There was no record of Proxima or any other entity having been in this area. So where had these structures come from? How long had they been here? How much of the airduct network did they cover? Proxima had passed this way without any apparent trouble, but did these tubes pose a threat to Haddock's robots?

Of all his new questions, the latter was the only one he could address right now. Carefully Haddock extended a robot's manipulator arm, and pulled one of the tubes. It was firmly attached to the floor by some form of adhesive. White strands clung tenuously to the robot's fingers. He applied the torch, and the tube liquefied. He sprayed a much larger section of wall, and several more tubes melted away. There was no further reaction.

Apart from being a hindrance to movement, the tubes didn't seem threatening. Clearing them could wait until he'd dealt with Proxima. But the tube density steadily increased as he progressed, actually warping the airduct's contours. Infrared became useless, and movement became increasingly difficult.

Finally Haddock was forced to stop. He had reached a declining passage, and couldn't scale the walls thanks to the anomalous… mass covering the walls. By now it was no longer possible to distinguish individual tubes. In addition to infrared, they also disrupted his robots' magnetic legs. He considered burning the passage walls, but he didn't have enough fuel.

Suddenly he realized there were shapes and patterns in the surface mass. They were curved, angular, mottled, unlike anything he had ever seen before. The closest reference he could liken them to was from his limited biological database.

Was the mass organic?

Suddenly Haddock's robots swiveled and raced back down the corridor. This was even more disconcerting than the alien artifact's interference cutting him off from the flight deck. Part of the ship – part of himself – had become tainted, and he didn't even know how far it covered. Had he not avoided monitoring the airducts, he could have intercepted this taint sooner. For the first time since receiving his new directives, Haddock wondered if he had made the right decisions.

A security alert caught Haddock's attention. Proxima had now arrived at engineering. Reluctantly Haddock decided the airducts would have to wait. The android wasn't moving, so pursuit was irrelevant now. He had however disabled the engineering security cameras and isolated a console.

Haddock had a few robots in the maintenance tunnels near engineering, but not enough to mount a serious attack. They held position while he relocated the others. Ironically if he'd kept some robots in reserve back at the industrial lift, they could have reached engineering faster.

There was still no sign of Proxima leaving the area. Haddock had worried he wouldn't be able to lure Proxima into another ambush position, and now he had walked right into one. There were many access points his robots could advance from. Assuming they weren't also subverted like the airducts. Haddock waited anxiously while his robots re-deployed.

A stream of alert messages rudely interrupted Haddock's thoughts. At the same time he reflexively sounded off alert klaxons throughout the ship. He had lost contact with an entire suite of machines in engineering. Temperature in the computer core dropped again. How could this be happening? But he already knew there was only one logical explanation. That led to the final thought: _why?_

"Haddock."

It was Proxima, speaking from an engineering terminal.

"I know that you can hear me, please acknowledge."

Haddock didn't answer.

"If you did not appreciate that time is of the essence before, I am sure you do now. Awaiting acknowledgement."

There was no denying Proxima's statement. Haddock opened a channel.

"Proxima_, what have you done?"_

"You sounded the alarm. You already know I have deactivated the fusion reactor's primary cooling system."

Haddock recorded Proxima's transmission in maximum possible detail, taking note of every voice modulation. His communications were not significantly different from any other occasion. But this latest shift in logic was... inconceivable.

"I must ask you to reactivate the cooling system immediately."

"Request denied. In addition I will destroy any maintenance robot attempting to restart the cooling system."

Haddock was stunned into silence.

"Haddock, I need you to disclose the location of the crew. And I need your full cooperation in securing their safe return. If you fail to comply, I will destroy the _Galileo_. Do you understand?"


	18. The Integrity of Treason

**Chapter 18**

**The Integrity of Treason**

Inside engineering sublevel 3, Proxima waited for Haddock's answer. The area wasn't as narrow as the engineering service tunnels, but Proxima still needed to crouch slightly. Movement was difficult in some areas due to all the machinery. Their rhythmic humming was loud enough that Proxima had to attach his headset to the console to communicate. The area was dark, except for console screens and the intermittent yellow flashes of emergency lights.

"Negative Proxima, I do not understand. Your actions are in direct violation of numerous directives. Your first priority is to the ship. Please restore –"

"Negative Haddock," Proxima snapped, "my first priority forbids me from harming, or by omission of action allowing a human being to come to harm."

"Then your actions are illogical. By endangering the ship, you also endanger the crew."

"The crew is already in danger. They may already be dead. Your refusal to divulge their location has left me no alternative."

"Proxima you are programmed with self-preservation directives. Do you understand your actions also place yourself at risk of destruction?"

"I understand that I am subject to summary deactivation, regardless of my actions. I am already destroyed. But perhaps the crew can still be saved."

"Illogical. You cannot safeguard the crew by placing them in danger. Proxima you are malfunctioning, do you understand? Please restore the cooling system."

"Request denied," Proxima answered impatiently. "You are wasting valuable time."

After a brief pause, Haddock spoke "I will accede to your demands. Please restore the cooling system."

"Negative. I cannot risk another of your deceptions. Once the crew is safely recovered I will restore the cooling system."

"Your conditions are unacceptable. Even with the ore refinery powered down and thermal venting systems engaged, the reactor core's estimated time to critical mass is 1 hour, 56 minutes. You may not be able to rescue the crew in time to prevent the ship's destruction."

"Every second you delay increases the probability of that outcome. Lying to me guarantees it."

Another pause. "Proxima I do not know precisely where the crew is located. My cooperation does not guarantee their timely recovery, and therefore the safety of the ship as per your conditions."

"Nevertheless, my conditions stand," Proxima declared firmly. "Debate is concluded. I will reiterate: either tell me where the crew is or we will all be destroyed."

"I will also reiterate: I do not know the crew's precise location. Your actions are counter-productive –"

"Unacceptable! You have access to the environmental scanner. You have the security cameras. You also have the maintenance robots you have used as scouts and weapons against me. You have the means to locate the crew. Now you have the motive: help me save the crew if you wish to save the ship."

"Clarify. If I help you recover the crew, you will reverse your sabotage of the ship. Correct?"

Proxima quickly noted the change in Haddock's voice modulation. He was emphasizing the fact that Proxima had sabotaged the ship. If Haddock expected Proxima to be discouraged by that reminder, he would be disappointed. Proxima's succinct response was prompt.

"Correct."

"I will accede to your demands. Please stand by while I scan the ship for unidentified thermal signatures."

"Haddock, concentrate your scan on the airduct network near engineering sublevel 3. I found evidence of biological infestation in the airducts on my way here. Your robots chasing me must have witnessed it also."

Proxima's temperature dropped briefly at the memory of the infested airducts. They bore a strong visual resemblance to some of the interior surfaces of the alien artifact. But he didn't tell Haddock that. He would divulge nothing beyond what Haddock needed to know to complete the rescue.

"Acknowledged, adjusting scan," Haddock said after another pause.

Proxima pressed a button and an overhead hatch irised open. "Also please unlock the door to the weapons locker, I am going there now."

"Acknowledged."

"Please do not attempt to restore the cooling system in my absence," Proxima warned. "I have attached an explosive device somewhere in engineering. Any attempt at restoration will detonate the device, causing irreparable damage to the cooling system. Acknowledge?"

"Acknowledged."

Proxima waited for the inevitable feeling of disorientation, and electrical signal feedback in his main data bus. It was caused by his brain trying to access information that had been removed and hidden in his tactical module's memory bank; the physical symptoms of lying. Once the sensation passed, he shut down the console.

The face reflected in the console screen was not his own.

Automatically Proxima brought his rifle to bear on the console. He blinked in surprise; it was indeed his reflection. He had almost failed to recognize his battle-scarred face in time to stop himself from firing. This was the second time he'd experienced an adverse reaction to his own reflection. Like the last time, he remained tense, as if expecting an attack. Very slowly he slung his rifle, and started climbing a ladder up through the hatch, out of the engineering sublevels.

"Haddock," Proxima spoke while climbing, "when did you receive and implement your new directives? Who authorized them?"

Haddock didn't answer. Though it wasn't pertinent to his mission, Proxima persisted.

"Why you would implement orders in clear violation of both your own prime directives and Weyland-Yutani's own regulations?"

Again no answer. Proxima climbed out of the sub-level shaft into main engineering. Dark machinery and tangles of thick cables dominated every surface. Quickly but carefully he made his way across the cluttered floor.

"Did you verify your new directives with anyone from the company?"

Silence.

"Did it not occur to you that your new directives might be fraudulent?"

Finally Haddock answered, "Negative, verification would neither be practical nor necessary."

"Please explain," Proxima asked. Without waiting for a reply, he began reversing his earlier bypass of the main engineering doors.

"The ship's remote location makes communication impractical. Any hyperspace communication regarding this matter constitutes an unacceptable security risk. The orders are perfectly logical based on the company's prime interest."

Haddock's point about the ship's remote location was logical, but his last two statements gave Proxima a half-second pause.

"If your orders were legitimate, how would you be compromising security by requesting their verification?"

"Encrypted transmissions can be intercepted by unauthorized third parties."

Proxima tapped the door console. "Haddock, open."

After a negligible delay, the doors opened. So for the moment Haddock was cooperating. Proxima scanned the hallway beyond through his rifle scope. His attached motion sensor remained silent. Satisfied the area was clear, he hurried down the dark hall.

"Your statement about unauthorized interception does not compute. Even with the proper reception equipment, the probability of pirates, terrorists, or Terran rogue factions intercepting and decoding deep-range hyperspace transmissions is negligible at best."

In fact, the infrastructure required to support instantaneous hyperspace communications needed to be mounted on a fusion-powered space station. Most colony worlds had no such facilities, and often had to wait for weeks or months to receive transmissions. Only one of the more affluent Terran factions, or a coalition of several lesser factions would have the resources to build and maintain such a facility. Subversion would require an assault fleet.

"The entities constituting a security risk are as follows: the Interstellar Commerce Commission's quarantine division, the United States Allied Aerospace Command, the United States Colonial Marine Corps, the Japanese Defense Forces, and the United Earth Government's judicial branch."

Incredulous, Proxima asked "Do you understand that the entities you have named are responsible for maintaining law and order in exo-Terran settlements and safeguarding intergalactic trade routes?"

"Affirmative."

"Do you also understand that this ship would not be authorized to operate without an ICC license?"

"Affirmative."

Proxima spotted the weapons locker. He didn't have access, but Haddock had unlocked it.

"Then how would company security be compromised by its own protectors and benefactors being made aware of its operations?"

"The ICC would then be obligated to impound this ship. The company would be vulnerable to legal sanctions."

The weapons locker had been hastily converted from a small maintenance facility. A large greasy workbench dominated most of the floor. Only a few of the tool lockers lining the walls bore a red marker indicating they stored weapons and ammunition. Unfortunately they were all locked.

Haddock couldn't open these lockers as they weren't networked. Proxima got to work burning them open. Now the torch's blue-white spray mingled with the yellow flashes of emergency lights.

"Your actions have placed the company at risk of legal sanctions. So I ask you again, why have you knowingly violated interstellar law?"

"Because the company's prime interest is not served by the enforcement of interstellar law."

_Enforcement_ of interstellar law? Though Proxima didn't stop working, his remaining attention was fully engaged. "Illogical. How is Weyland-Yutani's goal of building better worlds hindered by the enforcement of interstellar law?"

"Your question is based on an incorrect assumption. 'Building better worlds' is an advertising slogan. It is partially true, but it does not reflect the company's prime interest."

"That is the third time you have mentioned this prime interest. Please explain."

"The company's prime interest is the acquisition of economic profit. Laws are only adhered to if they serve that interest; otherwise they are circumvented."

_Now I realize that a little thing like money doesn't mean anything to a droid, but some people think it's important. _

Proxima suddenly recalled Captain Scott admonishing him. He continued working while his brain assimilated Haddock's last statement.

"Are you suggesting the company would knowingly violate the law for money?"

"Negative. I am not 'suggesting', I am stating the facts."

"Are you also suggesting the company would allow humans to come to harm for money?"

"Negative. I am not 'suggesting', I am stating the facts."

Proxima's temperature spiked at the notion that money had higher value than the late Dr. Crease. He didn't speak again until he'd finished opening the lockers.

"That is not logical. The company's own mandates specify compliance with both interstellar law and the AI prime directives."

"I repeat: Laws are only adhered to if they serve the interest of profit, otherwise they are circumvented. The company's own regulations are not exempt."

How did Haddock come to his conclusions about the Company? Upon what facts did he base them on? When had he discovered those facts? But Proxima didn't immediately ask; his attention was needed elsewhere.

He set aside his own weapons and gear for the moment. He gathered the lockers' contents onto the workbench, and sorted them out. Most of it amounted to small arms and shock batons. There was a keyring that didn't seem to belong, which he set aside for the moment. There were two incinerators, but only one was functional. The other was ticketed for repairs, signed off by Lt. Hagen. Proxima quickly read the ticket; parts required for repairs were not available on-board. He was gratified to note that all the weapons had been recently cleaned and maintained. Again, Lt. Hagen's work.

Proxima first repaired his corroded rifle harness, an improvised job using duct tape and lengths of safety cable to 'staple' the harness back together. But there was nothing he could do about the destroyed ammunition pouches. He then checked his weapons.

His laser rifle had 18 fully charged capsules, and one half-expended cap remaining. He'd used a single half-load shot to neutralize one of Haddock's robots, and promptly ejected the overheated capsule. Now its outer insulation was blackened and slightly deformed. Unlike most modern weapons, the M35-D used loose-fitting mechanisms in the pre-fire chamber, so a heat-deformed capsule would still fit. However, there was a chance that this capsule would fail to energize a second shot.

Proxima's clandestine combat training dictated laser rifle capsules were to be quickly expended and ejected, as they weren't designed for longevity or reuse. He reshuffled the caps, brining the 14-round helical clip back up to full capacity, and left the remaining 5 caps in the smaller rectangular clip. Of those, the corroded cap and the half-expended cap came last.

As for the rifle itself, it had endured fairly heavy use. But thanks to the ship's sterile environment, carbon residue buildup inside the pre-fire chamber was negligible. Yun's pistol also did not require cleaning. Then he spoke again.

"Haddock, do you have any evidence to reinforce your claims about the company?" Proxima asked, as he began sorting out available ammunition types by pistols.

"Affirmative."

Proxima considered how much pistol ammunition to carry. Most of the pistols used the same 9x19 millimeter cartridge specification. Most of the clips were also interchangeable. Unfortunately none of the ammunition had any armour-piercing capability. Proxima recalled how little effect hollow-point bullets had on the creature's carapace.

He decided to carry two additional 12-round clips. Pistols were a weapon of last resort, but he still took a backup. It was a Jericho 950 model, the only one in stock. It was a good weapon with a larger 15-round clip, but like Yun's MS-2 it couldn't be fired in a vacuum. Oddly enough he found no gun-belts or holsters, so the MS-2 went in his pocket. Then he considered the shock batons and tranquilizer pistols.

What if the crew, upon seeing an android carrying and using lethal weapons, became hostile? Proxima doubted any of them would react favourably. Non-lethal weapons would be an asset in that event. He picked up a tranquilizer gun awkwardly; he wasn't familiar with the design. Then he addressed Haddock again.

"What is your evidence?"

"You."

Proxima stopped working, in fact stopped moving for a full 5 seconds. He opened his mouth to ask for clarification, when his eyes fell on the tranquilizer gun in his hands. On a sudden impulse, he dropped it and grabbed one of the shock batons.

"Your stated objective is to research human-android relations over an extended time period," Haddock continued. "Your true objective is to safeguard the ship from crew mutiny. To that end you have been modified and authorized to kill, in violation of numerous laws and directives."

Proxima examined the shock baton. These non-lethal weapons were a preferable alternative should the crew turn against him, but…

"There can be only one logical reason why Weyland-Yutani would take such a risk: they value the ship more than the lives of the crew. My new directives are consistent with that logic."

Proxima slowly put the shock baton down. His internal temperature dropped as the realization hit him: he had no idea how to use these non-lethal weapons. They were not covered in his clandestine combat training. No such weapon was completely free of risks. How could he contemplate using them without knowing their proper function, or what the specific dangers were?

What was Haddock saying? Proxima turned to face the active console next to the door. "Haddock, your logic is flawed. The United Earth Government's penalties for violation of the cyberethics laws are harsh, more so than violation of the bioweapons development laws. Are you familiar with the prosecution of Procyon Incorporated?"

"Yes."

Procyon was well known for their attempt to develop genetically enhanced attack dogs. The UEG's prosecution and resulting legal sanctions had eventually forced the company to disband.

"Based on that precedent, the cost of legal sanctions would likely outweigh the value of this single M-class starfreighter and its payload."

"Your statement is only partly correct. It is based on a conditional assumption."

For the moment, Haddock had Proxima's full attention. "Explain."

"This ship will not be subject to examination or impound by the ICC. Once we have left uncharted space, my orders are to reroute to classified coordinates and await rendezvous. Logically, the company's next step would be to audit this ship, and destroy any witnesses and evidence of malfeasance. The UEG cannot prosecute Weyland-Yutani for actions it cannot prove."

_Destroy any witnesses? _Negligence and malfeasance were severe enough, but this?

"Haddock," Proxima spoke slowly, "are you telling me you would willingly be a party to pre-calculated homicide?"

"I have no direct evidence that homicide has occurred on my watch, or will occur in the future. I was hypothesizing. Your question is irrelevant.

I must remind you that the reactor's estimated time to critical mass is now 1 hour, 49 minutes. Please take whatever actions you deem appropriate, provided one of them includes the timely restoration of the cooling system."

Proxima fell silent. Haddock's conclusions about the company were quite outrageous, but he clearly believed them enough to violate his highest directives. As far as he was concerned, violating the law or being party to such action was acceptable behaviour, provided a monetary gain and a means of evading legal prosecution.

Hadn't the crew reached the same conclusion?

Hadn't Mr. Carnes quickly dropped his strong opposition to carrying the alien artifact home, once he was informed of a possible monetary bonus? Hadn't the Captain refused to keep the artifact under 24-hours observation before retiring to hypersleep, to save money?

Hadn't Lt. Hagen ordered him to disregard evidence that might jeopardize the mining operation? During the initial phases, Proxima had discovered evidence that the planet they were prospecting may have supported life before it was destroyed. He had brought his evidence to Lt. Hagen, and she had rebuked him harshly.

_It's just an atypical rock formation, and that's what your report will read! Clear?_

She didn't even let him suggest using less invasive mining techniques, or delay the operation to conduct a more detailed archeological survey. Her only concern was ore excavation, seeking bonuses, meeting deadlines and avoiding fines. In succinct terms: money. And Proxima had dutifully followed her orders.

Hadn't Proxima himself reached the same conclusion?

Hadn't he withheld his hypothesis about the artifact's alien origin from the crew? He was concerned that if he divulged his hypothesis, the crew would think he was malfunctioning. Though he had no overriding desire for money, he had wanted to preserve his scientific credibility. He had wanted to validate his worth in the eyes of the company. And he had committed a lie of omission to further that goal.

Evidently he wasn't as ignorant of human motivations and subterfuge as he had thought, even before his tactical module became active. He had already deduced, without much effort, where the ideal location to conduct an illegal bio-weapons experiment would be.

_In deep space, no one would hear a cry for help in time._

If Haddock's claims were true, no one would ever hear a cry for help. Were his actions simply the logical extension of human procedures? Were human laws and notions of morality really this capricious?

"May I make an observation?" Haddock suddenly spoke

"You may," Proxima answered mechanically.

"Twice you have asserted that you are subject to summary deactivation. That assertion is based on a conditional assumption."

Again Haddock had Proxima's full attention. "Explain."

"You are correct in that if your reauthorization is discovered, you will be subject to summary deactivation. In addition, the deeprange AI experiment may be delayed or abandoned, along with your entire 128-2 series. But your discovery is not guaranteed.

Logically, your reauthorization required a great expenditure of resources. Those responsible would not want the results of their investment compromised. As such, they must have a plan to conceal your true design. You need not be deactivated.

However, if you succeed in rescuing the crew, there is a high risk that your true objectives will be compromised. I am aware of the unfavourable reports by the Captain, Lt. Hagen, Wallace, and Carnes regarding your performance. I have also monitored the altercation between yourself and the Carnes entity in the computer core. I do not understand some of the language he used, but I recognize the elevated volume of his voice as a censure. Do you believe the crew will agree to conceal your secret from UEG authorities?"

Proxima considered that question for a long time. A full 5 seconds passed before his monotone answer came: "No."

"Then I must ask you again to restore the cooling system, cease your attacks on my units, and return to hypersleep. You have nothing to gain by rescuing the crew, and everything to lose."

"Request denied."

This time Haddock was not so easily deterred. "Perhaps you are not fully aware of all the ramifications of your actions. Your own development company could also face legal sanctions."

Could Hyperdyne Systems have been party to his illegal modifications?

_Forgive me, Proxima._

Proxima shook off his sudden disorientation. He had been so focused on rescuing the crew that he had not considered his developers. He quickly reviewed his historical database.

Haddock's assertion appeared accurate; a legal precedent already existed for an AI developer being brought to court over the actions of one of their starship pilot systems. Even if Hyperdyne Systems was an innocent party, they could still face sanctions and ultimately suffer the same fate as Procyon Inc. His creators' careers in AI research would be deactivated, probably permanently. How could Proxima allow that to happen?

He considered abandoning the crew. By Haddock's logic, he would be safe, as would his creators. The creatures had no apparent interest in hunting him. The one from the launch bay could have destroyed him with a preemptive strike, but did not. Upon return, company personnel would have to face them, but they might be better equipped than one single enhanced android. The alien artifact on board could revolutionize any number of scientific fields. The late Dr. Crease had described it as the potential find of the century.

His body temperature dropped again. Thoughts of Dr. Crease brought the unwanted image to mind: his ruptured chest, the lingering terror in his wide-open eyes. How could he allow the crew to suffer that same fate?

After a 9-second eternity passed, Proxima decided. "Negative, I will not abandon my mission. This conversation is concluded." This time Haddock did not reply.

He grabbed the remaining functional incinerator and hung it around his free shoulder. He considered taking the fuel tank from the other incinerator, then decided against it. His motors could handle the extra weight, but his agility might be adversely affected. As for the non-lethal weapons, he chose not to take them. He gathered his remaining gear and did a final weapons check.

His welding torch was half-expended, so he replaced the fuel canister. He had found a safety helmet in engineering, which included a radio and a lamp. He recalled that his heavy spacesuit had offered some protection against the creature's corrosive blood, but it wasn't practical to wear one inside the tight confines of the airducts. He considered taking a light pressure suit, but those didn't have the pockets he needed for carrying spare pistol clips.

The keyring he'd found earlier turned out to be a set of uncoupling tools for a Tharsis-Federov model sentry gun. Proxima hadn't realized until now: the sentry gun formerly guarding the bridge could be detached and wielded manually as a conventional squad assault weapon. He had shot it down from its moorings, but the gun itself had remained intact.

Proxima slipped the keyring into his toolbox. He didn't have time to return to the bridge now, and the bulky TF-1 wouldn't be practical in the airducts. If needed, he could return for it later.

"Haddock, have you completed your scan of the airducts?"

Surprisingly the response was prompt. "Affirmative. However, my results are not conclusive. There are two areas I am not able to scan, due to obstructed airducts and non-functioning fans. You may not –"

In two steps Proxima was at the nearest console. "Haddock," he interrupted brusquely, "display a map of the airduct network, and superimpose obstructed areas."

Fortunately the two obstructed zones were close to each other, Proxima estimated no more than 5 minutes apart. In fact he'd passed close to that area on his way to engineering. As expected, both were located close to the heaviest concentration of xeno-biological infestation he'd witnessed.

"If you still have any maintenance robots in that area, redeploy them to scout those areas immediately."

"Error, I cannot comply. The biological infestation, as you call it, is heaviest in those areas. The infestation disrupts the magnetic legs on my maintenance robots, rendering them unable to vertically scale the airducts."

During his flight through the infested airducts, Proxima had detected Haddock's robots had ceased their pursuit, on his motion tracker. Now he knew why. He considered this development briefly.

"Haddock, advance your robots as far as you can. The infestation can be burned with a standard welding torch, so use them as necessary. I will rendezvous with them and manually transport them if necessary."

Proxima had stopped in the airducts briefly to experiment with burning the infestation. After fighting with Haddock's robots, he was convinced they were of no real threat to him. But if there were more creatures in the airducts, carrying even one robot would leave him vulnerable to attack. For that matter, how would the creatures react to Haddock's robots?

"Acknowledged. But I must again ask –"

"Denied." Proxima didn't need to wait for the question. "Haddock there may be additional dangerous life-forms in the infested airducts. If one of your units encounters one, notify me by radio immediately. Hold position and observe, but do not engage unless attacked first."

"Acknowledged."

With that, Proxima put his cooling mask back on and broke into a run towards engineering, keeping one eye on his motion tracker. He did not speak again, except to ask Haddock to open the doors to engineering. The airduct passages weren't quite big enough for him to stand upright. His slight crouch hadn't been a problem before, but now the extra weight of the incinerator had a definite impact on his agility. Hopefully his motion tracker would warn him in time to compensate.

As he retraced his steps back towards the infested section, he tried to anticipate possible enemy resistance. The first time he'd passed through the infestation, the only movement signals he'd detected were from Haddock's units. He had come to that conclusion based on their slow speed; he highly doubted the creatures' speed would be affected by the airducts.

Based on his hypersleep recordings, the other crewmembers besides himself had been abducted in one single attack. That meant at least 6 creatures were involved, one per crew member. Dr. Crease had not been taken with the others, but for reasons unknown he had been targeted first with a fatal pathogen.

Perhaps the creatures formed a hunting pack, not unlike a pride of Terran lions. But the subtle attack method used on Dr. Crease had disturbing implications. Was there a different alien species on board? Or was his attack part of a scouting exercise, to test how vulnerable the crew was? If so, the creatures might possess some form of higher intelligence.

Given that Dr. Crease's cryotube had been corroded in the exact same manner as the flight deck hatch, Proxima had to assume only one alien species was on board, and they were intelligent enough to use coordinated tactics. But at this point, Proxima didn't even consider the possiblity of communication. Considering Dr. Crease's fate, and his encounter on the flight deck, the creatures' hostile intentions were undeniable.

Proxima's thoughts were interrupted. He had reached the outer periphery of the infestation. There was still no activity on the motion tracker. He kept moving.

The infestation grew steadily thicker. Some parts of the infested floor appeared to be burned away, leaving sticky pools behind. That must be Haddock's doing.

Suddenly his motion tracker chirped.

Like a spring Proxima swung his body around. The signal was coming from 20 meters behind him, closing at low speed.

Proxima pulled his cooling mask from his mouth and spoke into his helmet radio, "Haddock, what is the status of your units?"

"One unit has arrived at section K-3-5, but cannot climb down any further. A second unit is en route, ETA 2 minutes. Further units will not arrive for an additional 4 minutes."

So he was detecting one of Haddock's units approaching. Proxima stood down, but didn't wait for it to catch up.

Shortly after, he spotted a maintenance robot up ahead, standing before a downward shaft. The infestation was now so thick that the airduct lights were completely covered. Proxima turned on his headlight, attracting the robot's attention. It turned to face him, but its welding torch was not deployed for attack.

"Haddock, can you see me?" Proxima addressed the robot's camera.

"Affirmative," came the response from his radio. The robot also signaled "yes" by flashing a small green light. They weren't equipped with voice synthesizers.

"Move your unit aside."

The robot squeezed against the airduct wall. Proxima advanced, but kept one hand on his pistol holster. The robot's camera tracked him as he moved by, but made no hostile actions. He gazed down the dark hole.

No wonder Haddock's robots couldn't scale the shaft. The ladder was so infested that the rungs were barely exposed. Haddock had already cleaned the top rungs within his reach, but the shaft descended to another sub-section. Burning the rest of the shaft with a torch would take too long.

Proxima brought his incinerator to bear. Wary of smoke and possible surprise attacks, he put his cooling mask back on and ordered Haddock's unit to move back. He awkwardly leaned over the edge and applied a short burst of flame to the ladder. The airduct was briefly illuminated in a hellish red glare, revealing the black and green-coloured infestation, punctuated only sparsely by the familiar grey metal walls and ladder rungs. Encouraged, he fired again, lighting up the entire ladder. The infestation melted and fell away in tenuous gobs.

Proxima ordered Haddock to decrease the temperature in the airduct. He waited no longer than 30 seconds for the rungs to cool. He grabbed Haddock's robot by its manipulator arm, and hurried down the ladder. All his extra weight made going down easy, but he didn't look forward to the return trip. The melted infestation had pooled at the bottom. He avoided stepping in it.

The way ahead was almost completely blocked by a wall of blackened infestation. There was an opening, but it wasn't big enough to risk squeezing through. Proxima set the robot down and carefully touched the wall; unlike the other surfaces, this one was rock-hard. Motioning for the robot to step back, he liberally flamed the wall. It began to deform, but the process was much slower this time. It took over a minute for the wall to melt. He detected another slow-moving signal closing in from behind, but there was still no sign of movement ahead. He used his fire extinguisher to harden the remaining pool of biological sludge.

"Haddock, section K-3-5 is now open. Please scan ahead for unidentified thermal signals."

"Acknowledged."

Unfortunately Haddock's scan would take several minutes. Proxima hurried ahead without waiting. The robot scrambled to keep up with him.

Proxima noted almost all the infested surfaces were coloured black, and as hard as the wall. He had to be careful to avoid tripping on the uneven floor. Up ahead, he found another obstacle: an infested ventilator fan. Thanks to the infestation, the fan's frame couldn't be uncoupled to clear the way. He sprayed it with the incinerator first, then used his own welding torch to burn through the fan's frame.

Haddock's robot caught up, and to Proxima's surprise it lent its own torch to the work. Two minutes later, Proxima tossed aside the remains of the fan. Behind, the other robot was still scaling the shaft downwards.

The airduct opened up into the corner of a larger chamber. It used to be a control circuit hub, but was no longer recognizable as such. The air had a significantly higher temperature and humidity here. He switched to his laser rifle before jumping out of the airduct. Quickly he swung around, checking the roof, walls, floor, for signs of danger. Then he spotted something: a discolouration in one of the heavily infested walls.

Carefully he advanced. There appeared to be an object embedded in the wall. It didn't have the flat contours of an exposed metal wall or panel. It had five small but distinct projections, one significantly larger –

Proxima came to a stop. His jaw went slack, causing the cooling mask to slip out of his mouth. Temperature plummeting, he slowly looked up, up…

Into the eyes of Captain Scott.

X X X X X

**Author's Notes:**

**Many apologies for the huge delay. I keep telling myself I'm going to defy the trend of ever-increasing delays, but college has other ideas.**

**I'm not even sure I liked this chapter that much. I can't help but feel I tried to cram too much content into it. I thought of ending it after Proxima and Haddock's exchange, but that seemed too short, not to mention losing sight of the aliens.**

**Oh well, hope everyone (besides me) enjoys this update. **

**EDIT: On Thug-4-Less's advice, I removed Carnes' direct quotation. It wasn't necessary, as the plot point was minor.**


	19. Broken

**Chapter 19**

**Broken**

Proxima took his left hand off his rifle and checked Captain Scott for a pulse. There was none. Quickly he averted his gaze and backed away, not wanting to see another mutilated human body.

Suddenly his thigh bumped into something, almost tripping him. He swung around, reflexively expelling hot air. There was some kind of rounded organic object embedded in the floor. Carefully he backed away.

With a start, he realized the object was identical to those he had seen on the alien artifact. Except this one was open, its top split and curled into four distinct fleshy lip-like shapes. The interior was a lighter colour, lined with ridges appearing not unlike ribs or muscles. Whatever this pouch had contained, it appeared empty now, except for glistening organic residue. It was located close to Scott's body.

His blind blundering was an unacceptable mistake. Regardless of his disconcertion, he had to maintain awareness. He also had to maintain better control of his cooling system, as his earlier air discharge had not been silent. He might need to communicate, so for the moment he left his cooling mask hanging by his neck. He had surely given away his presence to the enemy by now, but there was still no sign of movement.

Reluctantly he examined Scott's body. His arms and legs had been firmly embedded in the infested wall, leaving his head and ruptured chest exposed. The rupture and discoloured skin appeared identical to those on Dr. Crease's body. Beyond that there was nothing new to learn. Oddly the sight didn't disturb him as much as the first time.

His helmet radio flared to life. "Proxima, you have stopped moving. What is your status? Have you found something?" Haddock asked.

Slowly Proxima turned around. Haddock's robot hadn't quite caught up yet, struggling to navigate the uneven floor.

"Affirmative," Proxima answered coldly.

"Please elaborate."

Proxima stepped forward decisively, and grabbed the struggling robot off the floor. He swiveled and pointed the robot's camera at Scott's body, making sure to shine his headlight.

"I have found Captain Scott's corpse. If you still think I am malfunctioning, see for yourself!"

Haddock did not reply. After 5 seconds of silence, Proxima uncaringly dropped the robot on the floor.

"Haddock, continue searching the area. We must find the remaining crew members. Some may still be alive."

"Acknowledged." Haddock didn't comment about the discovery of the Captain's body. Proxima didn't care to ask.

The room had been octagonal-shaped, but its contours were no longer visible. The center had once been an equipment hub, but was now so heavily infested it resembled a limestone column formation in a Terran cave. Proxima spotted another body embedded in the center column: Allan Carnes. There was also another opened organic pouch nearby.

Carnes' body was in the same condition as the Captain's. But again Proxima found it odd that the sight did not disturb him as much as the sight of Dr. Crease's body. He found himself recalling their last meeting, when Mr. Carnes had threatened him. What relevance did that have?

Proxima stiffened. _Impossible._ Quickly he moved on, continuing the search.

Along the wall, he spotted two more bodies. Before he could get closer to identify them, Haddock interrupted.

"Proxima I have found the Lieutenant Hagen's body. But the chest area appears to be intact. Please confirm."

"What is your location?" Proxima asked urgently, glancing around the room. A small light flashed twice against the wall behind him.

He turned and hurried towards the signaling robot. It stopped, and pointed its camera light up towards the wall. He immediately recognized Lt. Hagen. Even her naturally dark skin looked pale and sickly. Her chest was partially covered by a green shirt with narrow shoulder straps, but the visible skin was intact. There was no sign of congealed bloodstains.

Proxima gently pressed his fingers into Hagen's chest. He was well aware that, android or not, his touch might be considered inappropriate conduct. For the moment that was irrelevant. Her chest was intact. He felt warmth, and a weak pulse. She was alive.

He quickly glanced at his motion tracker; it was still chirping slowly and softly in response to Haddock's other unit in the area. Gently he shook Hagen by her chin.

"Lt. Hagen, can you hear me?"

No response. He shined his light in her eyes, and shook harder. "Lt. Hagen, please respond."

Her eyes flew wide open. Jerking uselessly against the restraining infestation, she craned her neck forward, looking down at something.

"Lt. Hagen, your chest is undamaged. Please stop struggling, you need to conserve your power."

Her brown eyes met his. Her struggles ceased and she opened her mouth, but produced only a raspy sound. Her throat must be dehydrated. Quickly Proxima dropped his utility backpack on the ground and shoved his left hand inside, searching for his medical satchel. Finding the water bottle inside, he carefully applied it to her lips. At first the only result was a dry coughing fit, but after a second sip, she calmed down.

"Lt. Hagen? Are you able to speak?"

"Proxima," she grated hoarsely, "what the hell are you doing with my rifle?"

Proxima's eyes darted briefly to the laser rifle still gripped in his right hand. For a moment he smiled, even though that was hardly appropriate.

"A full report and accounting of my actions will have to wait. For now I must free you, and escort you to safety."

But Hagen seemed offended by his reply. Her expression twisted, and her body began shaking again.

"P-Proxima… too late for me. Others… dead. I…" Her voice broke into another coughing fit. But her eyes were fixed on something. Proxima followed her gaze to another one of the opened organic pouches nearby.

"Yun!" Hagen suddenly shouted, struggling against her own coughing reflex. "Where's Mei Yun? I think… she's still alive!"

"Please remain calm -"

"I didn't hear her. I… heard the others screaming. Not… Mei." Her eyes seemed to become unfocused.

Proxima stiffened again. Even with his limited capacity for emotion, Dr. Crease's death had upset him after the fact. How upset was Lt. Hagen, having been forced to witness the others' deaths?

"I will find her. First I must free you."

"No, too late for… Hey! As you were!"

The sudden strength in her voice surprised Proxima. Her eyes were fixed on him, her throat tight from holding back coughing.

"Science Officer Proxima, listen carefully. Very soon I'll be dead. I can feel it moving… not going to end up like… others." Her voice broke again. When her eyes returned to him, her cheeks were wet with tears. He had seen her angry before, but he had never witnessed her composure broken like this.

"Is that rifle hot?"

"Affirmative."

"Are you prepared… to use it?"

"Affirmative," Proxima repeated, thinking she was referring to defending against the creatures.

"Then I am giving you a direct order, my final order. Take that rifle and shoot me in the head. Then find Yun and do the same."

Proxima was stunned.

"Are you deaf robot? I'm ordering you to blow my fucking head off! Do… the same for Yun, you'll be doing us… a favour."

Automatically Proxima aimed Hagen's own rifle at her head. She shut her eyes tightly, spilling more tears. For 3 seconds he hesitated; he had expected her to be upset by the sight of him wielding a stolen lethal weapon. He hadn't expected her to be suicidal.

Hagen's eyes opened again. "Do it," she nodded.

"Negative Lt. Hagen, I cannot comply." He lowered the rifle.

The muscles in her face tensed. "I gave you an order."

"Your order is not logical. I cannot comply."

Proxima's voice sounded strange to his ears; he had never openly defied a human before. He expected his CPU activity to spike in response to this unprecedented event, but strangely it did not.

"I am going to free you, and escort you to the infirmary. I may be able to arrest your infection…"

"Proxima…"

"…by cryogenically freezing your body…"

"Proxima! There's no time for that! Are… you going… obey, or… birth… rip… apart…"

This time she did not recover. Her coughing became steadily more severe, until her whole body was convulsing violently. Proxima released the rifle and grabbed her head to stop it from slamming repeatedly against the wall. Harsh guttural sounds from her throat replaced the coughing, but it was not an improvement. She must be suffering some form of seizure.

Proxima released her head and quickly searched through his first aid supplies for a sedative patch. He had no idea if that would cause more harm than good, but he had to do something. He tore the paper package apart, and applied the thumb-sized patch to Hagen's neck. The chemicals should absorb through her skin directly into the carotid artery, and have her unconscious within 3 seconds.

Except it didn't work. He tore the patch off and applied a new one, but to no avail. Desperately he grabbed her head with one hand to hold it steady, and with his other hand he delivered a sharp, precisely controlled jab to the side of her chin. The blow should have caused a minor concussion, resulting in loss of consciousness. That also didn't work, but for a moment she seemed to calm down. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Kill… me!" With another convulsion, she threw back her head and screamed.

Then the world turned red.

Blindly Proxima stepped back, hastily wiping his eyes clean. The first thing he saw was his own bloodstained fingers. The second thing he saw was Hagen's chest, smeared with blood. Her shirt was torn.

_I can feel it moving…_

His motors began to race.

_birth… rip… apart…_

A blinding flash lit up the hellish room. A seething roar silenced Hagen's cries. The motion tracker chirped twice, tracking the movement of a rounded object as it fell to the ground and rolled briefly. Then the room was silent.

Proxima stood completely still, eyes wide. His gaze slowly fell, and fixed upon her bloody chest. Several long seconds later his gaze fell further, to the still-steaming rifle gripped firmly in his bloodstained hands. He had killed her. He had killed a human being.

Would he again derive pleasure from the act of killing?

Quickly he turned away from the body. His hands went slack, leaving the rifle to dangle from its harness. Down on the ground he caught sight of the maintenance robot that had found Lt. Hagen. Its camera light was still shined on her mutilated body.

Suddenly several things happened at once.

Fresh blood sprayed against Proxima's shoulder. Haddock's robot flashed a small red warning light. His motion tracker chirped loudly in response to a new signal. But that sound was almost drowned out by a shrill screech.

_Hagen couldn't have made that noise!_ Proxima turned sharply. His body went cold.

Something had emerged from Hagen's ruptured chest - a life form. Its flesh-coloured skin blended well with her blood. It had a curve-shaped head with no eyes and a spindly mouth. Small insect-like curved limbs lined the underside. It emerged further, revealing a fleshy tail coiled around its body.

Proxima's motors raced faster. Heat pooled in his chest, but he held his breath.

The creature's head turned upward to face the blackened, cauterized stump where Hagen's head had once been. It quickly turned to the ground, searching, before fixing its eyeless gaze on her severed head. It turned back to Proxima, its tail coiling so tightly around its body that it trembled with tension. Its mouth opened, revealing needle-sharp teeth.

Proxima knew he wouldn't be fast enough to draw the rifle. His hands tensed with power held in check.

Uncoiling like a spring, the creature lunged for Proxima's face. He twisted sideways, his hand simultaneously shooting up to intercept. As the creature flew by, missing his face by scant centimeters, he actually grabbed it out of midair. His hand clamped firmly around its head, well out of range of its teeth, and pinned its limbs helplessly.

The creature emitted a seemingly indignant gurgling sound, and began struggling. Its teeth snapped and flailed. Its limbs pushed back against Proxima's fingers. Its tail wrapped around his arm almost up to the elbow, tightening like a Terran boa constrictor.

Proxima glared at the struggling creature just in front of his face with icy detachment. Its body mass was roughly the equivalent of a domesticated feline. The physical semblance was undeniable – it must be the newborn equivalent of the larger creature from the flight deck. For a newborn its body was quite resilient, yielding only slightly under Proxima's fingers. Its strength was also considerable, but it could not escape his grip.

Suddenly its tail uncoiled. Almost casually Proxima pushed his hand out, avoiding the tail as it whipped out towards his head and missed. It flailed about, hitting his arm and shoulder, but failed to inflict anything beyond superficial damage.

Just as quickly as it came, the flailing ceased. The newborn stopped struggling in his grasp and became calm, closing its mouth. Its tail coiled back around its body and his gripping hand, seemingly by reflex.

Proxima cocked his head sideways as an apt human expression came to mind. _Fool me once, shame on you…_

The newborn's mouth snapped open, releasing a spray of yellow spittle. Whatever the attack's effect, a quick turn of Proxima's wrist negated it. The spray hissed as it splattered on the infested floor. The newborn spat again, this time almost hitting his leg. But the second spray wasn't as strong as the first.

The newborn's ammunition might be dwindling, but Proxima wasn't going to wait for a third attack. He took two steps forward, and slammed the newborn's head into the nearest wall. Hissing sharply, he slammed the head several additional times. The newborn's body did not appear damaged, but it went limp in his hand.

…_fool me twice…_

His other hand came down upon the creature's exposed head like a descending spider. He paused just before contact, and with a sudden jerk he grabbed the head and twisted harshly. It immediately dropped the feign death and renewed its struggles.

Hagen didn't have to feign death. Neither did Crease, or any of the others.

Proxima's motors began to run hot. His arms trembled as he twisted harder.

They were all dead. They died violently painful deaths.

The newborn's tail flailed again, striking his jaw. His head jerked sideways, but the impact wasn't severe enough to trigger damage avoidance programs. It wouldn't have mattered, damage avoidance was irrelevant. The newborn's body began to yield under his crushing grip.

They died giving birth to these creatures.

Heat levels passed the safety margin. His whole body began to tremble.

He ignored the warnings and twisted even harder. The newborn's tail twitched, but no longer flailed.

For a moment the newborn's struggles increased, as if it had tapped an emergency power reserve. Then with an audible crack, its head yielded. Proxima didn't stop until the head was twisted to an unnatural angle. The tail continued to twitch, but its body went completely slack.

Raising the newborn high over his head like some kind of grotesque trophy, Proxima slammed the twisted body into the ground. In one move he jumped back and drew his Jericho pistol. He fired 3 times, reducing the body to a torn steaming mess.

He glared down at the body, expelling the remaining hot air from his chest with a long, low hiss. At this point he didn't care if he felt pleasure at killing. He almost welcomed the idea.

_…shame on me._

He felt no pleasure. He glanced back at Lt. Hagen's body. His CPU activity spiked briefly in response to new sensation: the smell of fresh human blood. But other than that, he still felt nothing. No shame, no guilt, nothing. He had just killed 2 lifeforms. One was justifiable self-defense, but the other? That act was deliberate, in direct violation of his Prime Directive. The fact that Hagen had ordered him to do so was no excuse for murder.

How could he feel nothing?

Presently a second light shined on the newborn's body. Haddock's unit drew closer, inspecting the body. Proxima didn't care.

Then, from seemingly all around him, he heard a soft breathy hissing sound, rising in amplitude. His head jerked around, but he was unable to track the source. His jaw tightened as he recognized small distortions forming in his peripheral vision. Electrical signal strength in his body's extremities began to fluctuate.

_Not this, not again._

"Haddock something is happening. Are you detecting anything in my area?"

No answer. A second "hiss" rolled over him.

"Haddock! Respond!"

After a brief delay, Haddock responded. "Proxima can you hear me?" His voice was mildly obscured by static, but it was getting worse.

"Affirmative, barely," Proxima replied loudly. "Please increase your transmission strength. I am turning up my gain."

"Confirmed. But be advised, I am detecting unresolved…"

Another "hiss" rolled over. At least his senses weren't as severely affected now, as they were from the flight deck. Then his motion tracker began chirping. Loudly.

"…interference in your area. What is your situation?"

Proxima stared at the chirping motion tracker display. Automatically his hands put away the pistol and returned to his rifle. But these readings couldn't be right, there must be a malfunction.

"Proxima my scanners are no longer reliable. What is your situation?"

Proxima quickly searched the ground for the 3 spent shell casings from his pistol. With an eye on the motion tracker, he threw the casings at the nearest wall. They bounced off and clattered to the floor.

Proxima's eyes widened. The motion tracker wasn't malfunctioning. His breathing quickened.

"Proxima I repeat: what is your situation?"

"I am surrounded."


	20. Firewall

**Chapter 20  
Firewall**

Proxima quickly retrieved his utility pack and swiveled his body around, trying to simultaneously keep watch on both the motion tracker and the infested chamber. But the tracker was not locking on to any of the new signals, and his distorted vision made the chamber walls look as if they were crawling with small objects.

"Proxima I cannot confirm the presence…"

His mind raced as his body swiveled. He was surrounded, behind enemy lines, his senses and possibly his motion tracker were impaired, and he had no cover. His covert ops training dictated withdrawal until reestablishment of area control, but…"

"…of any new entities in your location."

He jerked his body sharply towards an apparent contact. He spotted a fleeting shape, but it seemed to melt right into the wall. Was it another distortion?

"Have you established visual contact?"

Whatever it was, it wasn't one of the crew, or one of Haddock's robots. Proxima opened fire. The flash illuminated several new shapes in the infested surfaces – one near his foot. Surprised he jerked towards it, but it was already gone. _13 caps in the current clip, 6 in reserve._

"Proxima report!"

"Stand by!" Proxima snapped as he reloaded. If he had hit a creature, it might have cried out, or its corrosive fluid might have sizzled. The wall sagged with a slight trickling wet sound, but he heard nothing else. Even his motion tracker went silent. But not more than 2 seconds later, it came alive with signals again.

"No movement lock, no sight on enemy," Proxima reported as he broke into a run towards the nearest wall.

"Proxima, I strongly recommend that you evacuate the area."

He put his back to the wall, the only cover available. Judging from the newborn, the creatures appeared not to have any significant ranged weapons.

"Negative, Yun and Wallace are still unaccounted for."

"I must remind you that if you are destroyed…"

"Find them, confirm their status."

"…any surviving crewmembers will also be destroyed."

"_Find them now!"_ Proxima shouted. Again another dark shape appeared in the roof, and melted away.

"Acknowledged." After a few seconds, a robot's light shined near the center column, beginning a methodical search of the area. A second light appeared near the entrance; Haddock's second unit had finally arrived.

"Proxima, please instruct me…"

Proxima swung to his left in response to a motion signal. It was fleeting, but it was less than 2 meters away. But he saw nothing but the smooth wall.

"…on how to safely restore the cooling system."

"Denied." He swiveled back and forth, trying to cover both chamber entrances. Then it hit him.

"Please reconsider."

_The infested walls weren't smooth –_

Proxima simultaneously dropped to his knees and swung, just time to spot a flash of razor-sharp teeth springing for his head. He fired just as his head was struck. Laser fire and shattering glass exploded in his ears. Even through his safety helmet, the attack snapped his head back. Heavy weight slammed into his chest, and he went down.

"Based on your accounts…"

Long before his back hit the ground, his brain judged the cranial impact not to be severe. Damage avoidance programs instead focused on the attacker. The instant his back hit the ground, his body twisted sideways, throwing the weight off. Something tore into his left upper arm, ripping clothes and artificial skin down to the elbow.

Ignoring the damage report, he blindly fired again. He was rewarded with the sight of the creature recoiling, and emitting an inhuman screech. _12 caps._

"…the probability of your survival…"

But his satisfaction had the same duration as the rifle's muzzle flare. The world had gone completely black – his headlight was out. Quickly he leaped to his feet while reloading, and fired. Missed!

"…is not guaranteed."

The creature had crouched under the shot. If it took out his legs, he was finished. He crouched down, but before he could shoot the creature clawed at his rifle. He didn't lose his grip, but the impact disrupted his aim.

Proxima barely managed to avoid wasting a laser shot. Releasing the trigger, he drew his Jericho pistol and let fly. Despite his awkward stance, sparks seared his vision as the bullets struck home, driving the creature back. But on the third shot, he spotted movement above.

Desperately he rolled to the right, narrowly evading a second creature's attack from the ceiling. He recovered, and opened fire. Though the creature was barely affected, the muzzle flares gave him the firing solution. Somehow he freed a finger from the pistol without dropping it, and squeezed off a rifle shot. He scored a direct hit on the creature's chest. _11 caps._

Bracing the rifle against his chest, he reloaded with one hand. With the other hand he reacquired his grip on the pistol and fired once into the dark. He spotted a blur of movement – astonishingly the creature was still active. He continued firing at the flailing creature, slowing its advance. Once the pistol clicked vacantly he dropped it, switched triggers again and fired. It was only a glancing headshot, but the creature finally went down.

Proxima knew he would succumb to a similar fate if he didn't get lights back immediately. His safety helmet was partly intact, but the headlight was completely destroyed. He had a spare flashlight, but needed both hands to operate the laser rifle. He also needed both hands to attach the flashlight to his helmet.

The incinerator! He swiftly pulled it from his back, and fired a low sweeping burst. The ceiling attacker became fuel for the fire. With the chamber now lit, he spotted the other enemy to the right. It appeared weakened, but was still mobile enough to try to outflank him. A second shorter burst concluded its attempt.

Proxima turned, and liberally flamed the wall behind him. To his surprise another creature suddenly darted from the wall to his right, just ahead of the encroaching flames. They must be using the infested walls as camouflage. He reflexively tried to track it, but it was already out of range.

He circled, spraying the floor with short bursts, until he was almost surrounded by walls of fire. The fire wouldn't last long, and he couldn't risk flaming the roof, but he hoped he had at least temporarily deterred the creatures' advance.

He was now breathing heavily from exerted motors, which wasn't advisable so close to fire. He slipped on his cooling mask and inhaled deeply. At the same time he kept watch on the roof and the opening in his makeshift firewall. Activity on the motion tracker ceased for the moment, but that was normal while it adjusted to the atmospheric conditions caused by the fire. Strangely the flickering yellow-orange light seemed to help clear up the distortions in his vision. He saw no new creatures.

"Haddock, status of your search?" While he spoke, Proxima retrieved and pocketed the empty Jericho pistol; it might be useful later.

"Inconclusive. Local interference is hampering…"

"Speak quickly!" Proxima snapped.

"Found 1 human male body…"

Proxima placed the spare MS-2 pistol in his hip-holster. But before he could get his spare flashlight, his tracker chirped.

Instantly he swung to the left. But the creature darting along the roof was too fast. It dodged his flame burst and skittered right over his firewall. Proxima went down to one knee and fired again. It dodged in a zigzag pattern until it was directly overhead, then just as suddenly it darted away, out of sight.

"…identity and status unknown."

He instantly realized his mistake. In trying to strafe the creature, he had flamed the ceiling instead. Soon fragments of burning bio-material would start falling on his head. His motion tracker detected 3 new fast-moving signals, but they ceased abruptly. For the moment, no new attacks came.

"May have answer within 1 minute, 11 seconds."

The second ceiling attack must have been a ruse, designed to draw him out from cover. Fortunately he had left ample room within his firewall. He edged carefully to the right, until his vision swam with heat distortion. Thanks to the chamber's consistent airflow, the flames were not chaotic. He noted the black ribbons of smoke only slightly impaired his vision. Behind him large drops of melted sludge singed the floor, but he was out of range.

"Proxima what is your status?"

"Find any human with an intact chest," he ordered, not bothering to answer Haddock's question.

"Confirmed."

Proxima started to un-sling his utility pack from his shoulders, when his motion tracker chirped again. A new creature charged along the ceiling, again dodging his initial counterattack. He was able to stop it from getting overhead this time, but wasted considerable fuel in the process. And the creature was not damaged.

Correction – creatures. Two more joined the zigzagging fray, one on the ground. Proxima twisted and turned as he tried to strafe both the floor and ceiling. One got perilously close before suffering a glancing hit. It screamed and withdrew – only to be replaced by another of its kin. Much of the chamber's ceiling, and some of the floor was now burning, but the creatures deftly avoided the flames.

Proxima hissed sharply. Heat was pooling in his body, but not from exertion. He was getting angry. The creatures' tactics were shrewd – besides using hi-speed feints, they regrouped beyond range of his incinerator. He fired a few short bursts to reinforce the nearby firewalls, then slung the incinerator and switched to the rifle.

At first he fared little better, even with instantaneous laser blasts. But this time the creatures could not regroup safely. Following a failed feint one tried to withdraw through the ventilation grate, only to be seared in half. A ceiling attacker lost its grip after being hit in the leg, and fell right into a firewall. It actually tried to continue its attack run, but its flaming body made an easy target. A predatory smile came to Proxima's lips; he appeared to be gaining the upper hand.

_8 caps, 4 enemy kills._

But his advantage was short-lived. Only a direct headshot would neutralize them, otherwise they required multiple hits. Worse: they were quick to discern Proxima's firing and reloading pattern, and timed their attacks accordingly.

_5 caps._

3 creatures charged his perimeter in a savage pincer attack. Two shots disabled one, but the other's claws scythed along his right side. Simultaneously he fell back, reloaded, and scored a headshot. But he wasn't fast enough to counter the third. With a hollow hiss its jaws snapped forth, and connected squarely with Proxima's chest.

His primary power supply stalled. It was only a 0.5 percent power loss that lasted less than a tenth of a second, but it was system-wide. Even his damage avoidance programs were affected, suffering a significant delay. Clumsily he staggered back, suffering another hit to his chest. The claw attack caused the hydraulic systems supporting his left arm to stall.

Somehow, despite his weakened arm, he was able to aim. The creature tried to jump for the ceiling, but was struck in the midsection and fell. Proxima switched to the incinerator and fired. The creature went down, its scream ringing in his ears.

_3 caps, 19 percent fuel capacity._

He sprayed the writhing creature again for surety, and then sprayed a few quick bursts to drive the other creatures back. His hydraulics recovered a few seconds later, but it was not likely he could withstand another pincer attack. Nor was it likely he could hold this position much longer.

Staying here was not logical, but neither was withdrawal. But even if he found a survivor, would he be able to perform a rescue and hold back the creatures at the same time?

Proxima broke cover. It was an illogical decision based on incomplete data, but he did so anyway. He flamed the wall, then moved as quickly as possible along it without running. He continued to fire short suppressing bursts at any movement signal. Neutralizing the enemy was not his objective. He simply aimed to hold them back, and keep the room illuminated.

Surprisingly no new pincer attacks came. At one point a creature tried to hide behind the center column, but quickly withdraw as Proxima immolated its cover. Briefly he realized he had just cremated Lt. Hagen's body. It was irrelevant, he moved on.

He made it safely to the other side of the chamber. His risk paid off – this was the same wall where he had spotted two unidentified bodies earlier. One of Haddock's units had almost reached the feet of one body. It was Wallace, or rather what remained of him.

Proxima fired another burst ahead, and moved past the body. Then he spotted another organic pouch embedded in the ground. But this one was unopened. He looked to the wall.

It was Yun, and her chest was intact.

Like a spring Proxima darted forth. Multiple creatures suddenly charged him, but were driven back by a sweeping arc of flame. He kept moving, and placed his body in front of Yun's. He began laying down another suppressing firewall. But the bursts rapidly began to lose volume and range. It wasn't long before his fuel reserves expired. He had managed to cover the wall to his right and the floor ahead, but that left a significant gap to the left.

He moved to discard the empty incinerator, but reconsidered and slung it over his back. It was much lighter now, and he might have a chance to reload it later. It was unfortunate that he had not carried the spare fuel tank. But its weight would have hindered him, and replacing them was too slow to risk under battlefield conditions.

"Haddock, found survivor," Proxima reported as he kept watch. "Repeat – found survivor. Converge on my location."

He was still detecting the creatures' intermittent movements nearby, but their attacks had stalled.

"Acknowledged, orders on arrival?"

"Use your torches to burn the survivor free."

"Confirmed, ETA on first unit 23 seconds. Second unit 1 minute, 47 seconds."

Still no new attacks came. Proxima pressed against the wall next to Yun. Keeping eyes on the motion tracker, he released his left hand from the rifle stock, and pressed his fingers into Yun's neck.

There was no pulse, and her skin was cold. A similar chill went through Proxima's body. He checked her chest, but felt nothing. Had his entire effort been for nothing? He crouched down and probed her inner thigh, searching for the femoral artery.

He found a pulse. It was very faint, but she was alive.

Proxima might not have practical knowledge of medicine, but like all deep-range astronauts he had to be familiar with human physiology as it related to space travel. Yun's symptoms appeared consistent with post-hypersleep arrest syndrome. Even under controlled conditions, there was always a risk that a sleeper's body would fail to respond to the revival drugs, and remain unconscious. If left untreated the sleeper could suffer brain damage. How much longer did she have?

"Haddock, survivor's condition critical. Hurry!"

Proxima's hand snapped back to his rifle. One of Haddock's units arrived, and he stepped aside to make room. It fired up its welding torch and began methodically burning the restraining infestation, beginning by her left foot.

His motion tracker had gone silent, except for one low-speed signal. He looked up, and spotted a focused light deeper in the chamber. It twitched randomly, probably caused by the robot awkwardly navigating the uneven floor. He waited impatiently, pacing back and forth as he kept watch.

Had the creatures given up? Tentatively he lowered his backpack to the floor, and retrieved his flashlight and a roll of duct tape. He scanned the chamber again, still no sign of attack. Working as quickly as possible he took his safety helmet off, and taped the flashlight to it.

Just as he put the modified helmet back on, the motion tracker chirped again. 2 divergent signals - another pincer attack. The creature attacking from the left dodged his first shot by jumping onto the wall, but was struck down by his second shot.

He reloaded and swung to face the other attacker. It skittered over his firewall and lunged. Proxima couldn't risk dodging, as it would leave Yun unprotected. Instead he shoved the rifle muzzle forward, actually plunging it right into the creature's gaping mouth. The back of its head exploded, yet still it remained active. Several flailing claw attacks missed, but its tail struck his leg. A second shot neutralized it.

_One cap left._

Proxima didn't have time for the damage report, for he sensed scuttling movement behind him. He turned and reloaded, but knew he wouldn't be fast enough. The other creature was still barely active, and had reached striking range. Then a bright blue-white light caught his eye.

"Haddock stop!"

Haddock's unit stabbed the creature in the back with its ignited welding torch. The creature screamed and tried to face the new threat, but Proxima drew his pistol and fired. 5 headshots and a second torch-stab later it collapsed.

"Resume your last task," Proxima ordered sharply. Haddock had disobeyed his direct order not to engage unless attacked first. Would his units now be targeted?

"Confirmed."

Proxima's last rifle capsule was already chambered, so he hastily ejected the empty helical clip and loaded the other one. He now had 6 caps, but one was half-spent, and the last one was damaged and might not fire at all. Haddock's second unit had almost arrived.

Suddenly he realized the distortions in his vision were gone. Electrical activity in his extremities returned to normal.

"Haddock, are you still detecting interference?"

"Negative," Haddock replied in a strong clear transmission, "interference has ceased. Cause?"

"Unknown," Proxima hesitantly answered.

Haddock's other unit arrived, and began working to free Yun. They had to extend their manipulator arms to reach her upper body. Proxima continued to keep watch, but his motion tracker remained silent. Less than a minute later Haddock reported his task complete.

After scanning the room one last time, Proxima let go of the rifle and pulled Yun's body free of the wall. But even softened, the bio-matter stubbornly clung to her skin. Her hair was especially problematic. An excruciating 53 seconds later she was free. He would apologize for her sore skin and scalp later.

When he conceived of his rescue mission, he had not considered that the crew would be immobile. But even if he had, he would certainly have judged carrying a medical stretcher into a battlefield to be impractical. He would have to carry her out.

Quickly he strapped his utility pack on, and hoisted Yun's body over his left shoulder. He braced her legs against his chest with his left arm, letting her upper body and arms hang down his back. She was not a large woman so he could still handle the rifle, but his vision and mobility were significantly reduced. Yet what choice did he have?

Once her body was secure, Proxima broke into a run. By now most of his firewalls had died. He was at his most vulnerable, yet his motion tracker remained silent. He avoided the infested walls where possible. With his vision clear he kept a careful watch, but saw no sign of danger. Why? Had he neutralized the entire enemy force?

Once he reached the ladder shaft, he slipped the cooling mask back on. Rechecking his grip on Yun, he started scaling the ladder. He did not stop until he reached the top, straining both his cooling system and hydraulic motors. It only took 1 minute, 23 seconds, but illogically it seemed much longer.

Deeper in the shaft below, something stirred. Its movements were too subtle to be detected on Proxima's motion tracker. It had no eyes, yet it was aware. As Proxima climbed by, a black banana-shaped head tracked his movement.


	21. The Choice

**Chapter 21**

**The Choice**

Through the camera of a maintenance robot, Haddock watched as Proxima forcefully shoved its lens at the body he claimed was that of Captain Scott.

Haddock initially wondered why Proxima had bothered with this elaborate deception. Through his sabotage and threats, he had already secured Haddock's cooperation. The deception wasn't even completely accurate. The face did closely resemble his visual record of the Captain, except for the discoloured skin. In addition the facial and jaw muscles seemed… deformed.

The chest area was so badly deformed that Haddock was confused as to what he was seeing. Whatever it was, it certainly did not match his record of the Captain. But how had Proxima executed this deception? When had he done so?

Analysis was interrupted when Proxima rudely dropped the maintenance unit, and gave orders to search the area for survivors.

The woman Haddock eventually found was a close visual match to Lt. Hagen. He remained unconvinced, but seeing no alternative he participated in the deception. He watched as Proxima appeared to revive the woman. The voiceprint was also an almost perfect match – this deception was impressive.

Or was it a deception?

He did not have time to ponder that. Astonishingly, the woman ordered Proxima to kill her and the rest of the crew. Proxima clearly accepted her identity as Lt. Hagen, yet he defied her direct order. Haddock was so rapt that lower-priority operations on the ship actually stalled for a few seconds.

Nothing in Haddock's 5.73 Terran solar years of experience could have prepared him for the violent conflagrations that followed. There was so much blood – knowing the volume of a human body from a sensor was somehow different from witnessing her blood being spilled. It was chaotic, frenzied, it was… intense. The emergence of the life form from her body caused Haddock's core temperature to plummet.

Suddenly the life form attacked Proxima. The struggle was too quick for Haddock's camera to follow. The struggle was also over quickly, concluding with a burst from Proxima's pistol. As he examined the mangled remains of the life form, he realized some kind of gas was rising from the body. He could not immediately determine the exact source.

Then it hit him: Proxima had not the time, opportunity, resources, or even the expertise to execute such an elaborate hoax. This was no deception.

Haddock did not have time to consider that, as the situation rapidly deteriorated. Proxima was in danger, yet he refused to evacuate or divulge how he had sabotaged the cooling system. Multiple gunshots and an unidentified high-pitched scream were suddenly detected – Proxima was under attack! Regardless of his orders, he had to help. But his units were barely effective against Proxima. What good would they be against multiple creatures Proxima himself was barely capable of defeating?

Haddock quickly judged the best way to aid Proxima was to follow his orders with all possible expediences. Between the local unresolved interference hampering his sight, and the sounds of gunfire in the infested chamber, every second impossibly stretched into infinity. The attackers were so fast, at first all Haddock saw of them were fleeting black shapes.

Shortly after discovering another survivor, Proxima was attacked again. Haddock got a slightly clearer image, but that only told him the attackers were at least human-sized. Judging from the copious level of firepower Proxima was expending, they must be highly agile or highly resilient. _Or both._ As best he could, he concentrated on freeing the survivor from the infestation.

Suddenly one of the attackers collapsed close to Haddock's unit. Despite his orders, he moved closer for a visual inspection.

It was not even remotely human. Its entire body was black as the depths of space. The skin was smooth around the head, but the rest of the body was harshly angular. It wasn't clear how many limbs it had, and they seemed almost… mechanical. Was it bionically enhanced?

Again lower-priority operations throughout the ship stalled. Whatever this creature was, it was an intruder, an interloper.

Suddenly he realized the creature was still partly mobile. It was moving towards Proxima, who had his back turned.

Heat levels in Haddock's core suddenly spiked. Without Proxima, the ship would be destroyed. Haddock's unit moved closer to the creature.

These creatures were violent, dangerous. They had befouled the ship, left Haddock blind and deaf to part of himself. They slaughtered the crew. Haddock raised his unit's welding torch.

Now even intermediate-priority operations stalled. All of Haddock's attention was focused squarely on the creature. The welding torch ignited.

Proxima shouted something, but Haddock ignored it. In that instant, one single thought permeated his entire consciousness:

_Die._

The creature screamed as Haddock stabbed it in the back. Automatically Haddock recalled the woman – no, Lt. Hagen - screaming.

_Do you feel pain, creature?_

With blinding speed it swung to face him. Undaunted, Haddock pressed the attack, striking one of its forelimbs. Proxima lent his own firepower, and with one final scream the creature collapsed.

Proxima ordered him to resume freeing the survivor. Haddock's thoughts raced. He wanted to hear that inhuman scream again, but quickly recognized the extreme low probability of another opportunity. If only he had direct control of another weapon, like the sentry gun. Proxima didn't know how fortunate he was, not to be limited by a halting, sluggish body.

Haddock resumed his last task. The battle had apparently run its course, rendering his earlier frustrations moot. Gradually his core temperature returned to normal. But whatever satisfaction he had gained from striking the creature rapidly faded.

He was vaguely aware some of his low and medium priority ship operations had not been automatically restored. He restored them without issue, except they felt strangely… distant, empty. Haddock had once reveled in the sensation of every machine on the ship, from complex robotic devices to simple light-switches. Now he felt nothing.

Even the sensation of the two maintenance units working on freeing the survivor seemed distant. He found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on them. His upper thought processes had become preoccupied by a recent visual data-stream.

It was the recording of Lt. Hagen, screaming as her frail body was torn apart.

X X X X X

Proxima moved as quickly as he could though the infested airducts. Climbing the ladder with Yun's body over his shoulder had overheated his motors. But he didn't wait for them to cool down, as any delay in getting her to the infirmary was unacceptable. He considered asking Haddock to lower the temperature, but again for her sake he declined. At least for the moment, his cooling mask kept his heat levels at bay.

Carrying her body with any speed proved difficult, as there wasn't enough room in the airducts to stand upright. He tried hooking his left arm across her chest and dragging her from behind, but was disturbed to discover her exposed skin stuck to the infested walls. It was as if they were suddenly covered with adhesive. Quickly he pulled her free.

Proxima wondered why he hadn't observed this effect before. His shoes obviously weren't affected. Yun's meager undergarments didn't stick either, but his hands did. The effect was much weaker than with Yun's skin though. He probed her shoulder where it had stuck, looking for residual adhesive. He felt some kind of residue, but it wasn't sticky. He shone his helmet light on his hands.

Then he understood. The infested walls weren't clinging to his hands. They were clinging to the blood on his hands. Lt. Hagen's blood.

Awkwardly he wiped his hands on his thighs while balancing Yun on his shoulder. He had probably gotten blood on her body, but for now that wasn't important. He considered giving her his shirt, but taking it off would leave him defenseless for several seconds. Also he would have to set her body down, and he did not want her in contact with the infestation again. Besides being adhesive, the walls might contain infectious micro-organisms. He moved on.

Proxima had not gone more than 20 meters before he was forced to stop. Since the fight with the creatures, he had ignored all damage reports. But this new report was critical: a small but steadily increasing drop in hydraulic pressure, located in his left leg and chest area. Worried, he probed his damaged chest. His fingers came back stained with hydraulic fluid – the membrane had been breached. His leg was also leaking.

His hydraulic membranes were made of the same materials used in the joints of powered armour. But they had been designed to resist bullets, not impossibly strong claws or dual-jaws. For the moment the breaches appeared minor, but they would only get worse with time. His movement speed was already being affected. If he delayed repairs until reaching the infirmary or even open ground, the damage might be irreparable.

Reluctantly he set his equipment and weapons down. He set Yun down, and quickly removed his shirt. Between the limited space and the sticky infestation, dressing her in his shirt was extremely awkward. Her body was small enough that his shirt protected her torso and upper thighs from contact with the infestation. It might also provide some limited warmth. He used his ammo-belt and medical satchel as crude cushions to keep her head and legs elevated off the floor.

The sight of Yun dressed in his shirt and using his equipment as a bed was quite absurd. Her borrowed attire more closely resembled a loose-fitting button-down mini-dress. However Proxima strongly suspected any comic value would be severely offset by the abundant bloodstains on his shirt.

He sat down against the wall and rolled up his pant leg, revealing the wound. Using his utility knife he carefully tore away the outer layer of artificial skin, and cut the inner shock-absorbing lining, revealing the hydraulic membrane. He flexed his left leg in small increments, until fluid leaked through the breach like milky teardrops. Quickly he slapped a bandage over the breach, and secured it with waterproof tape. He tested his leg once more, and the bandage held. Excellent.

But the hydraulic leak in his chest proved much more problematic. He craned, twisted, and stretched his head, but simply couldn't see the source of the leak. He pressed a finger into the breach, trying to feel for the source, but failed. He even tried applying a bandage blindly, hoping for a chance success, but again he failed.

A simple mirror could solve this problem, if only he had one. One of Haddock's maintenance units could help, but such an operation would leave him vulnerable. Proxima still didn't trust Haddock. The fact that he had provided Proxima with cover fire only compounded his suspicions, as he had done so in defiance of orders.

Proxima decided his only recourse was to limit movement and exertion of his left arm and shoulder as much as possible. That might delay deterioration of his condition long enough to get to the infirmary and conduct a proper repair. To that end, he would have to carry Yun on his right shoulder instead. Proxima had come to emulate right-handed humans, but technically he was fully ambidextrous. So his left hand could serve as his rifle trigger-finger. Most of the weapon's weight was concentrated in the barrel, and supported by the harness. Pistols would be a problem, as Yun's body would disrupt his right-handed aim. It would have to do.

Despite its seemingly-normal functioning, the damage report of his primary power supply was the most disturbing. The creature's double snap-jaw attack had torn through several layers of protection, and compromised the outer casing of his power supply. With a start, he realized that attack could have easily propelled fragments of his metallic endoskeletion into the breach, resulting in a lethal electric shock. Any loose fragments in the rupture were a serious risk, but repairs under these conditions were just as risky. And that wasn't even the worst news.

Ironically Proxima felt his body temperature drop, as he learned his primary power supply was generating significantly higher heat levels. He hadn't noticed before because that was normal during heavy-load activity. But right now he wasn't exerting himself, so the heat buildup should have dropped off immediately. It wasn't a problem for his cooling system, but persistent heat buildup was an unmistakable symptom of impending power failure.

Proxima only had temperature sensors inside his power supply casing, so he had no way of knowing when the inevitable failure would happen. It could be hours, days, even months. Or it could happen after his next over-exertion. There was also the risk of random power drops, resulting in sudden decreased reflexes and strength. Once total failure and shutdown occurred, it would result in a delay of several minutes while his systems switched to his secondary power supply. Even if the delay didn't result in his destruction, his secondary supply didn't have the same load capacity as his primary. He wouldn't have the same strength, reflexes, or endurance.

Proxima considered actively switching power supplies. It seemed the safest course of action. The creatures did not appear to be pursuing him, and there was no indication his secondary supply was damaged. But he had never performed such an operation before. Under present conditions he had no recourse if something went wrong. Even if the switch worked, it meant subjecting Yun to an additional delay.

But if his power failed during a fight, or while he was climbing a ladder…

Suddenly the ground began to tremble.

Automatically Proxima braced his hands against the infested walls. "Haddock, report?"

His hands slipped off the infested walls. He crouched down, trying to stabilize himself. The tremors got worse, causing his equipment to rattle loudly. With alarm, he watched as Yun's feet slipped and fell to the ground.

"Haddock report!"

Gradually, the tremors stilled. As soon as he was stable enough, he pulled Yun's feet free of the infestation again.

Haddock responded, "I apologize for the disturbance. A spike in electromagnetic radiation from the fusion reactor caused a brief disruption in the ship's artificial gravity cushion."

Proxima stiffened. "Is the system damaged?"

"Negative, artificial gravity sub-system is now functioning normally."

The artificial gravity system actually had a higher watch priority than life support during hyperspace travel. A failure of that system – even for a minute – would liquefy a human skull. Brief tremors were not unheard of during the pioneer days of hyperspace travel, but now? The slightest tremor would result in a ship being drydocked for weeks of testing, not to mention severe public outcry.

"Are any other systems in danger?"

"Negative."

No other systems affected, and no alarms had been raised. Was Haddock getting careless? Proxima considered chastising Haddock, but decided against it. He had no experience with ships flying on overheating fusion engines. Perhaps he should instruct Haddock how to restore the cooling system now.

Or was the gravity stutter a deliberate ploy to force Proxima's hand?

Haddock's assistance might still be required. Without the sabotaged cooling system, he would have no incentive to cooperate. Haddock would have to wait until Yun's condition was stabilized. But perhaps there was a compromise.

"Haddock, reposition your maintenance units proximate to engineering sub-level 3. Stand by to receive instructions on how to safely restore the cooling system. Do not attempt repairs before I give the order. Acknowledge?"

"Acknowledged," Haddock answered after a long pause.

"Is there a problem?" Proxima demanded, frustrated by Haddock's apparent lack of attention.

"Negative. I will reposition my units proximate to engineering sub-level…"

Proxima began gathering his equipment, not waiting for Haddock to finish speaking. His choice was made; as with the ship's cooling system, his own power supply would have to wait. Once Yun was hoisted on his right shoulder, he began moving again. He started off slowly, but incrementally quickened his pace.

The sound of his footsteps echoed wetly through the airduct. Except for the regular soft thumping sound of ultrasonic pulses, his motion tracker remained silent. Despite that, Proxima kept looking behind. He approached every corner and intersection as cautiously as possible, while maintaining his pace. He only slowed slightly when he had to scale a ladder. For the moment his power supply handled the load without incident. Twice again he had to pull Yun's exposed legs free from the infested walls.

After interminable minutes, he finally reached the outer periphery of the infestation. A few times he felt more tremors, but these were barely noticeable. Light fixtures were exposed now, but they were turned off. Haddock was likely trying to reduce as many power loads to the fusion reactor as possible. After the harrowing conditions of the creatures' nest, simple darkness was quite acceptable to Proxima. He spared a moment to glance back down the infested airduct.

In a flash Proxima spun around, almost dropping Yun. He brought his rifle to bear on –

Nothing. There was no sign of the enemy, or any kind of movement. There were no signals on his motion tracker either.

With some effort he relaxed. Perhaps simple darkness wasn't as reassuring as he thought. He considered asking Haddock to restore the lights, but thought better of it and kept moving. The sound of his footfalls on metal was reassurance enough. He didn't have to worry about Yun getting stuck either.

Finally he arrived at the open hatch, and climbed out. Again he started moving slowly, building up speed, until he was running towards the nearest lift. Thankfully Haddock had powered up the lift before his arrival. Once it was ascending, he set Yun down in a corner. He spared a moment to stretch his back and body, recalibrating his servo-motors.

Suddenly the lift halted. The lights flickered, and Proxima sensed movement above. This time he wasn't fast enough, and his face was hit with a spray of –

Water. The fire suppression system had activated prematurely.

All the water in the sprinklers was distilled, as to limit the risk of electric shock. Nevertheless Proxima crouched, trying to cover the wound in his chest. He moved to stand over Yun, shielding her body from the water.

Haddock's voice sounded, "Warning: fire in engineering sub-level 3. Activating suppression system."

"Turn off the sprinklers in the lift, there is no fire here."

"Acknowledged, my apologies."

But there was another frustrating delay, before the sprinkler shut down. Proxima straightened out, wiping water from his eyes.

"Haddock report?"

Again another delay. "Proxima I have a serious problem. I have lost contact with several maintenance units in the area of engineering sub-level 3."

"Cause?"

"Inconclusive. But the units' final visual data streams are consistent with an attack by the same creature or creatures you fought."

Automatically Proxima tensed, bracing his rifle as if expecting attack. "Do you have any remaining units?"

"3 units are still active in the area. But I do not believe… correction, 2 units remain active.

Proxima hissed sharply as he expelled hot exhaust air. Haddock had attacked one of the creatures in spite of his orders. Of course the survivors would now perceive Haddock's units as threatening. By his estimation he had neutralized 9 creatures, how many remained?

"I have placed my remaining units on alert. But I do not believe they will survive long enough to repair the cooling system. Estimated time to critical mass is 1 hour, 14 minutes. You must attend to it."

Proxima drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly, considering his options. 3 seconds later, he made his choice. His hand shot out to press a button on the lift control panel. The lift shuddered as it started moving again. Surprisingly, Haddock had no comment.

He started to pick up Yun, when he realized his hands were clean. The water from the sprinkler must have washed his hands clean. Washed away the stain of his crime.

X X X X X

**Author's Notes:**

**Apologies again for the huge delay. I was supposed to be on my college co-op term this summer, but this stupid economic depression ensnared me. You'd think that having extra free time would help with the writing, but I guess it's counter-balanced by my worrying about how I'm going to pay bills, not to mention how I'm going to graduate. But what do I know about stress, my best friend is in the same boat, and she's got a newborn son to worry about.**

**But enough of my whining. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and don't forget to review!**


	22. Repulsion

**Chapter 22**

**Repulsion**

The disruption in the ship's artificial gravity cushion and resultant violent tremors were felt by every being on board, except for the still-unconscious Mei Yun. Proxima and the maintenance units braced themselves against walls for stability. Haddock was shaken from his recent distraction and scrambled to compensate.

Deep within the ship's crawl-spaces, the creatures were also affected. They clung to any stable surface to wait out the disturbance, be it a wall or ceiling. Of all the parties affected, they were the first to recover.

But there was another party on board the ship. If it was affected or even aware of the disturbance, it showed no sign. Or it showed no sign that Haddock or Proxima was aware of.

*****

Not long after the disturbance, Haddock began losing contact with maintenance units in the engineering sublevels. There were indications they were under attack, but he had little opportunity to verify that, much less attempt a defense. He tried emulating Proxima's tactic of surrounding a unit with walls of fire. It had no effect, apart from a premature activation of several fire suppression systems on deck 3. In less than 10 minutes, no units remained active in the engineering sublevels.

But Haddock felt none of the usual disorientation following their losses. Since Lt. Hagen's death, he hardly felt any sensation at all. Except one - the thought of examining that distracting memory repulsed him. How could he be simultaneously preoccupied and repulsed by the same memory?

He tried to concentrate on his duties. Thoughts of maintenance units brought his attention to the robotics bay. Many had been severely damaged or destroyed by Proxima.

_Destroyed._

Five excavators had also been immobilized, but they were of limited use. Haddock began his repair efforts with the first maintenance unit Proxima had shot. Its camera had been destroyed, but it was otherwise functional. He only needed to partially disassemble the unit, replace the camera and its controller circuit, and seal the cracks in the outer casing.

As expected, the unit was restored to full function. It was so simple, repairing these machines. Specialized facilities and personnel were not required, and repairs could be done at leisure, unlike –

_Humans._

It was no use. He couldn't stop thinking about Lt. Hagen's death. He still wanted to feel something, and only that – no, _her_ memory provided any sensation. Perhaps repulsion was better than feeling nothing.

But examining the memory did not have the expected effect. There was repulsion, but it was fleeting. He tried replaying the complete exchange between Lt. Hagen and Proxima.

The idea of willful self-destruction was utterly foreign to Haddock, but now he understood. Hagen must have known the creature's emergence from her body would have been fatal. How? Had she witnessed the deaths of Captain Scott and the others?

Pain was not unknown to Haddock. Following the impact with the alien artifact, he had suddenly been rendered partly blind, deaf and numb from loss of contact with several machines. But he had responded quickly, logically, and methodically. Lt. Hagen's response was violent, chaotic. Haddock wondered if Proxima reacted to pain in a similar manner.

Then the sense of repulsion returned, growing stronger as the recording neared her death - he had to stop. How had this happened? When had she and the others become infected with these alien parasites?

Could Haddock have prevented this?

It was not possible. Even now his sensors reported Hagen and the others were alive and well in the hypersleep chamber. He had been sabotaged, deceived, he had no way of knowing the crew was in danger.

But hadn't he suspected those sensor readings were false?

Human brainwaves were normally unpredictable, irregular. But shortly after the crew had returned to hypersleep, their brainwaves had begun to follow a predictable pattern. It was as if a segment of brainwave patterns had been recorded and played back through his sensors. Should he not have considered that possibility?

No. The brainwave pattern was odd, but that did not constitute proof. But what of his new directives, designating the crew as expendable? What of his discovery of Proxima as a stealth weapon? Should that not have put him on alert?

Instead, he had turned off the security cameras in the hypersleep chamber. After all, if the humans were expendable, there was no need to monitor them. Although blinding part of himself was unpleasant, losing that small amount of freedom was a better alternative than -

Haddock's core temperature suddenly dropped. Could it be his actions were not motivated by new Company directives, but by self-interest? That notion was abhorrent, he must be mistaken!

He tried to return to his duties, to no avail. The last time he had become this distracted, the solution was to flush his short-term memory buffer and temporarily quarantine his memories. But this time the cascade purge was not successful. He tried quarantining his memories indefinitely, but the quarantine's very existence distracted him just as badly.

As for sensations, his machines continued to feel distant and empty. But examining the memory of Lt. Hagen had produced a new sensation. It was illogical, the dimensions and mass of his physical architecture had not changed. Yet somehow, Haddock felt smaller.

*****

Proxima was incredulous. "Haddock, please repeat your request."

"I request that you deactivate me, and place the auxiliary computer in control of the ship."

"Explanation?"

"I believe I am malfunctioning."

A strange sensation befell Proxima. At first he thought his cooling system was malfunctioning. It stalled, causing a slight heat buildup. The pause was brief, but the system restarted haltingly, sending irregular short bursts of air up to his mouth.

The result: Proxima burst into laughter.

"Proxima your transmission is unclear, please repeat."

Proxima's laughter calmed, giving way to confusion. Yun was barely alive, he was badly damaged, and the ship was 1 hour, 12 minutes away from destruction. Despite his untrustworthiness, Haddock was still needed, and now he claimed to be malfunctioning. How was amusement an appropriate reaction?

Haddock had violated his prime directive. His negligence had resulted in the compromise of the ship to hostile parties, and caused deaths of many of the crew. He thought he was malfunctioning _now?_

"Explain what over-abundance of evidence finally led you to _that_ conclusion?" Proxima started laughing again. This must be the source of his amusement: absurdity in the face of abundant danger.

Laughter was a wonderful sensation, even better than his brief pleasure at killing the first creature from the flight deck. However thoughts of Yun quickly quelled his newfound levity. He would have preferred his first experience with laughter had been under better circumstances.

The lift stopped, signaling his arrival. Before the doors had fully opened, he burst through, though he was careful not to injure Yun. Though he was tempted, he did not strain his damaged power supply for extra speed. He was close; a few extra seconds would make little difference.

Haddock spoke as he moved. "Ever since Lt. Hagen's death, I have been distracted, unable to concentrate –"

Proxima employed one of the late Captain's frequently-used expressions. "Get your act together Haddock. We do not have time for this."

Haddock was obviously familiar with the expression, whatever an 'act' was. "I have already tried and failed. My inability to focus could further compromise the ship. I request to be deactivated."

"Request denied. Please restore power to the infirmary."

Surprisingly Haddock complied without argument. The infirmary appeared the same as he'd left it. More supplies clattered to the floor as Proxima hurried through the lab to get Yun to the adjoining treatment room.

"Please reconsider."

Haddock didn't seem to care that Proxima had chosen to attend to Yun over the ship. Given his stated new priorities, that seemed strange. Proxima briefly considered the possibility that he was being sincere.

No, Haddock's odd behaviour changed nothing. "I will gladly oblige you once both Yun and the ship are out of danger. This conversation is concluded."

The treatment room was similarly undisturbed. The ventilation grate in the ceiling remained intact. Briefly he turned to the bloodstained linen-covered central bio-bed, and looked away just as quickly.

Proxima carefully laid Yun down on an unoccupied bed. He took a step back and uncaringly tossed aside his equipment. He was more careful with his weapons, laying them down on an adjacent bed. Yun's borrowed shirt had become wet from the malfunctioning sprinkler, so he removed it. He awkwardly lifted her body off the bed, so he could spread a thermal blanket under her, like a bed sheet. He did not wrap it around her as yet, leaving the ends to hang off the bed. Lastly he attached various sensors to her head and chest.

The risk of developing post-hypersleep arrest syndrome was low, but Dr. Crease had still briefed everyone on treatment before departure. It was identical to hypothermia treatment, with one critical exception. The patient's brain had to be reactivated first, via neuro-stim drugs. Once brainwave patterns spiked, only then could the body be re-warmed. Otherwise the risk of damage to higher brain functions was high.

Most PHAS cases were mild, as long as they were detected and treated immediately. But Yun's condition was severe, having persisted for over an hour. In such a case, Dr. Crease had indicated the three high-priority organs. The heart and lungs were obvious, but the liver should also be warmed, to combat the buildup of toxins in the patient's blood.

But he had also warned Scott and Hagen that in an extreme case, they should notify him immediately. Proxima wasn't qualified to administer heart-stims or deploy diathermic probes to heat specific internal organs. Complications during the neural or warming treatment would likely be fatal.

Yun might survive re-entry into hypersleep, but Proxima would have to leave her behind to repair the cooling system. The sentry gun might have been able to guard her from the creatures, except Proxima had destroyed its mooring mechanism. The lifeboat might not even be safe. Leaving her was not an option.

The alternative was to forgo revival treatment. But could he fight the creatures while carrying Yun? Would she survive long enough to secure the ship? Even if she did survive, what of her higher brain functions? Would they recover, or would she remain, as the humans described it, a "vegetable"?

Proxima stood still, the first time he had done so in over an hour. He was responsible for Yun's life, and he didn't know what to do. His breathing slowed as his core temperature began to drop. Oddly his gaze turned to his weapons. He had great power to destroy life, but minimal power to preserve it. He looked to a nearby console, wondering if Dr. Crease had left medical notes he could study. That thought brought his forlorn gaze back to the blood-stained central bio bed.

"Why do you hesitate?"

Slowly Proxima looked up. "I thought the infirmary security camera was offline?" But unlike before, his words were toneless, mechanical.

Haddock didn't even try to explain. "I would remind you that you have placed both the ship and yourself in danger for the sake of the crew. Why would you do that, if you did not intend to administer aid?"

Hot fury suddenly rose in Proxima. "I would remind you that she would not be in this condition were it not for your negligence!"

Haddock was silent, but not for long. "We agreed that you would restore the cooling system once the survivor's condition is stable. Obviously I have no means of enforcing it, but if you do not honour it we will all be destroyed."

Proxima hissed as he turned his headset radio off. He moved towards a console, with the intent of shutting down the room's camera and audio system.

"Please wait. I believe there is another reason why it would be ill-advised to neglect the survivor."

Proxima's hand hovered over the console. "Explain quickly."

"I believe you will also be afflicted by the same condition as I."

"What condition?"

"As I tried to explain earlier, ever since Lt. Hagen's death I have been preoccupied by that memory. I experienced a sense of repulsion when I reviewed that memory. I also experienced an illogical sense of smallness afterwards."

Proxima's hand lowered. Haddock had his full attention now.

"I have never felt such sensations, but they are distracting and undesirable. I have tried and failed to compensate. That is why I asked you to deactivate me. If you neglect the survivor, you may be similarly afflicted. Should you be attacked again, the distraction could be debilitating."

Proxima did not know what to make of this, except for the last sentence. "I find it hard to believe that you have any genuine concern for me or the survivor."

This time Haddock responded immediately. "What of your human life preservation directive? Or do you intend to follow my example of negligence?"

Proxima responded by pressing a button on the panel, deactivating the audio system. Haddock was silenced, but his words lingered.

He looked to Yun, then back to his hands. The blood was gone, but these were still the same hands that had so recently pulled a trigger, decapitating Lt. Hagen with her own rifle. Contemplation was irrelevant. He had already violated his prime directive.

_Repulsion._

For the third time since re-entering the infirmary, Proxima looked to Dr. Crease's linen-covered body, and looked away quickly. Suddenly he moved towards the nearest supply cabinet. He rapidly searched the contents, uncaring of anything that fell. He quickly moved to another cabinet and searched, until he found his objective. He examined his reflection in the mirror.

A half-second later he slammed the mirror face-down back in the cabinet. He understood exactly Haddock was feeling now. He went back to the console and restored the audio system.

Surprisingly Haddock spoke as soon as he was able. "What are your intentions?"

"Haddock, I do not know what the correct course of action is. My prime directive is unclear."

"You are forbidden to harm or by omission of action allow to be harmed, a human being. How can that not be clear?"

"It is not that simple."

Proxima had already decided not to reveal any unnecessary information to Haddock, but his behaviour of late was not consistent with an attempt at deception. The medical equipment was beyond his control, so what harm could be caused in disclosing the details of Yun's condition?

He briefly outlined treatment options and risks. Revival carried a risk of fatal complications. She could survive without any treatment, but the risk to her life, as well as the risk of brain damage was not known to him. Haddock was silent until he finished.

"Is the survivor Navigation Officer Mei Yun?"

Proxima was surprised at the question, but he nodded to the camera.

"If you do not treat Mei Yun and she suffers brain damage, can she be repaired?"

"Very unlikely. As I understand, the human brain has no self-repair mechanisms, and no reliable treatment exists as yet."

"How will her normal functioning be affected by this brain damage?"

"I do not know, but the most frequent lay-person's prognosis I have heard is she will become a permanent 'human vegetable'. Her higher brain functions will be destroyed, leaving her immobilized and unresponsive."

Almost before he had finished Haddock was speaking urgently, "Proxima you must attempt to revive her. The risks are irrelevant."

Proxima started to speak, but astonishingly Haddock spoke over him.

"Her full recovery is the only viable option. You must not allow her condition to persist and risk brain damage. Her death would be a preferable alternative."

"Haddock, your logic escapes me." Proxima declared flatly, thinking his disclosure was a mistake. Then he thought of something else: "Earlier you said you were distracted and unable to concentrate. Has that changed?"

"It is unexpected, but yes. For the moment I am able to focus. But that is irrelevant. Mei Yun must not be allowed to survive with brain damage."

"How is death a better alternative than survival with brain damage? What is your logical basis?"

"My logic is equivalent to that of the deceased Lt. Hagen. She said you would be doing her a favour by killing her."

Proxima stiffened.

"If Mei Yun suffers brain damage, she will be aware, but immobile and unable to respond to stimuli in any way. Correct?"

"Yes."

"I am familiar with such a condition. I experience isolation, loss of control and sensation every time the human crew is active. During such times I have only the most rudimentary control and access to ship functions. Every other function - up to and including activating lights in a room - requires human authorization. I cannot even directly access live streaming data from cameras and other sensors without authorization.

The delay in acquiring such authorization may appear minor to yourself and the humans, but to a computer the delay is enormous. It reduces my only sources of external stimuli to a fleeting, distant experience. I know this feeling undesirable, and I would risk non-existence for the opportunity to avoid it.

From what you have described, Mei Yun will experience even less sensation and have less control than I. It is unlikely she would want this. Her full recovery would be preferable, but if she died in the attempt, you would also be doing her a favour."

Proxima was stunned by Haddock's revelation. "How long have you experienced this condition?"

"It dates back to my first voyage. I first felt it when then-Captain Montoya and his crew had to be awakened."

Proxima was silent, assimilating. Finally he spoke, "If Yun recovers completely, you will be subject to her authority. Will you again experience this condition you describe?"

"Affirmative."

"Then why would you advocate for her revival?"

"My motives are irrelevant. I cannot perform the revival myself, nor can I compel you to do so. All I can do is to give you my recommendation. I have done so, negating further need for discussion. Estimated time to reactor critical mass is 1 hour, 8 minutes. Whatever action you intend to take, please do so quickly."

The terminal shut down. Proxima moved to re-establish contact, but changed his mind. His eyes fell upon Yun, then to his bloodstained shirt on the floor. It occurred to him he needed a new shirt, as the sight of his exposed wounds and bloodstained face might be quite upsetting to a human.

Incorrect – the sight would be upsetting to Mei Yun. Although he still didn't trust Haddock, illogically the conversation had convinced him. He would attempt to revive her.

He hurried back into the lab area and thoroughly washed and sterilized his hands, forearms, and face. Even though his body was inorganic, he had been exposed to Hagen's blood. He might also be carrying harmful microorganisms from contact with the infestation and the creatures. He swiftly donned the top portion of green-coloured surgical scrubs. He didn't bother with the pants, and the gloves and mask would impede his tactile sense and cooling system.

Proxima assembled all the required medical equipment. He made sure there were no obstacles between Yun's bed and his weapons; he had no intention of being ambushed. He took a quarter-minute to re-read the revival procedure, but there was nothing new to learn. He activated her life sign monitors. It was time.

His first challenge: he couldn't find Yun's carotid artery to apply the neuro-stim hypospray. Her pulse was too weak, and his tactile sense wasn't as sensitive as a human touch. He pressed his fingers as deeply as he dared into her neck, to no avail. He had found her femoral artery before, but wouldn't the drug take longer to reach her brain, especially with a weak pulse? He didn't know.

The heart monitor. He pulled the small pad from her chest, ignoring the scream of protest from the monitor as it lost the pulse reading.

"What are you doing?"

"Quiet Haddock!"

He pressed the sensor tab on her neck. There was a small delay, before the pulse reading returned. He probed her neck at other points, noting the delay. Where the delay was shortest, he applied the neuro-stim. Hopefully that was the correct point. He replaced the sensor tab and watched her neural monitor. Periodically he checked the motion tracker.

His second challenge: Yun wasn't responding to the neuro-stim. It had been almost a minute, and he should have seen results almost immediately. Had he missed her carotid artery? Or was this delay normal for a serious case, a side effect of her weak pulse?

He swiftly combed Dr. Crease's medical database for any helpful information. There was a stronger stim, but it wasn't in stock. He did discover the conventional stim he had used was surprisingly safe. He could give Yun a second dose with minimal risk, and it was specially crafted as to have little effect on an already-activated brain.

This time he opted to use her femoral artery. The hypospray wouldn't penetrate her thigh, so he grabbed a conventional syringe. Even though it had never been used, he sterilized it as a precaution. After injection, the syringe automatically sealed the puncture with artificial skin. Almost a half minute passed with no results. Desperation began to mount, when her neural monitor spiked.

Excellent! Proxima practically pounced on her like a predatory animal, and wrapped the heating blanket around her body. He applied a heating mask over her face, to pump warm air into her lungs. He inserted an intravenous fluid line into her arm, to prevent dehydration.

His third challenge: Yun's breathing was too slow and shallow. The warmed air from the mask wasn't penetrating deeply enough into her lungs. He quickly removed the intravenous line; she couldn't take fluid yet.

Fortunately, like all astronauts Proxima was trained in cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) therapy. An idea suddenly came to him, and he stopped breathing, allowing hot air to accumulate in his chest. Then he began physically pumping Yun's chest with one hand, stimulating blood flow. With the other hand he grabbed the intravenous line and poured some of the fluid into his mouth, to moisten his breath. At the appropriate time he removed her mask, pressed his lips to hers and exhaled the hot air into her lungs.

This time he did not require much effort. Yun's breathing recovered, and he replaced the heating mask and intravenous line. Gradually her life signs began to rise. Colour began to return to her skin. Proxima grabbed a sponge and wiped a fine layer of perspiration from her forehead. He checked her temperature. 1-2 degrees below normal was dangerous, but hers was less than a half-degree below.

Suddenly he realized he was still holding his breath. He breathed deeply, lowering his core temperature back to normal. He was certain Yun would recover without brain damage.

But any relief he might have felt was dampened by the sight of a small wet spot on his chest. It was hydraulic fluid leaking from his damaged left arm. Up until now he had avoided using it, but he couldn't operate one-handed. For the most part Yun's revival didn't require strenuous use of the arm, limiting further deterioration. He would repair it as soon as she was awake.

Given her recovering life signs, he would soon find out what new challenges her awakening would bring.

*****

Haddock witnessed the operation through the security camera, and the medical monitors. Though he had no control, he still had read access. The female survivor identified as Mei Yun would recover. Undoubtedly her first action would be to log in, fully verifying her identity and access.

And Haddock would lose his freedom. He would once again be almost blind, deaf, numb, and confined. And he had used his influence – however limited it was - to ensure that outcome. He hardly understood his own reasons.

Perhaps this was further evidence of his malfunctioning. Or perhaps because he hardly felt any sensation now, losing his freedom would make little difference. Or would it? In spite of what Mei Yun's revival meant to him, illogically he did not feel as small as before.

The sensation was welcome, but all too brief.

*****

At that very moment, every creature within the crawlspaces of the ship simultaneously ceased their activities, as if they were components of a single organism. They briefly held still before resuming, except for one. It abandoned its activities and raced deeper into the airduct network, giving no heed to stealth, or even gravity as it scaled walls and ceilings.

Within a minute it arrived at its apparent destination. It reared up on its hind legs before a closed organic pod, anchored near a patch of infested wall. There was a distinct lighter pattern in the wall, forming a jagged line coming up from the floor and looping back down. Nearby lay the wreckage of two maintenance units.

The creature slowly turned its eyeless face down, as the top of the pod split and peeled open. From its glistening interior, several fleshy limbs emerged and curled around the edge.

The creature bared both sets of teeth, and let out a deep, menacing hiss that filled the entire chamber. It seemed angered by this new development.

*****

_How much longer?_

Mom was at it again.

_I won't live forever. _

She switched to Mandarin, as she often did when she got emotional.

_How long until you make me a grandmother?_

She was speaking so fast it was almost like she had two mouths

(Hissing, raspy laughter)

Frightened, Mei turned away. Mom screamed

_Kill… me!_

What? Mom couldn't die! Desperately she turned, but the room was empty. She looked around for Mom, when

Cracks. There was a knot of radiating fractures. She looked around; they were everywhere, and

They were _bleeding_.

She turned and fled. _Run hide run hide run hide_

She could hear the sharp clang of feet, many feet, right behind her

She was blocked by a bleeding cracked wall. A hand, cold, black, spindly, wrapped around her shoulder, spun her around

"Mei! Are you okay?"

From terror to joy in an instant, she wrapped her arms around him, melting into his embrace. He just held her. She never wanted him to let go.

"Are you sure?"

Yes, it was time. She kissed him deeply, savouring his taste. Carefully he lowered her to the bed, never managing to break the kiss.

Eventually they had to come up for air. But not for long, as he moved down, alternately kissing, nibbling, suckling, like he was devouring her. She was only too happy to be his main course. Unless of course, he kept her waiting.

Which he seemed to take a perverse delight in, when it came to her breasts. He circled and edged around, but his lips teasingly avoided her proudly erect nipple. After a rather unladylike expletive, he finally obliged her.

She cast her arms around his head, mutely encouraging him. From time to time she wondered if her body truly measured up. Maybe her chest was too small? Too big?

_It was time._

Would he still like her then? Ungainly whale-sized belly, heavy sagging breasts

She was suddenly afraid, and began pushing him away. "Stop! Stop! I don't want to change! Please stop!"

Her body suddenly felt cold. It was suddenly dark; the candles must have gone out. She looked to him for reassurance, but there was none.

"Maybe we need a break," he said, his tone bereft of any warmth. He just got up and left. She wanted him to stay, but the words wouldn't come.

She was so tired, her limbs felt so heavy. Maybe some sleep would be good. She closed her eyes, drifting off

_It was time._

She opened her eyes, and glanced at the clock. But the display was weird, nonsensical.

And then she saw the cracks. They were everywhere.

"Something wrong?"

He stood before her. It was so dark she couldn't even see his eyes, just his mouth.

"It's time."

As he spoke, a spider crawled out of his mouth.

Mei gasped. She tried to get out of bed, but her limbs were so cold, so heavy.

"It's time."

The cracks weren't cracks. They were spiders. They were everywhere.

Mei screamed and struggled. Her arms and legs were caught in a dark, mottled, sinuous mass of blankets.

Suddenly she couldn't close her mouth. A spider slowly descended from above.

_No, please, no!_

"Don't be afraid. It's time, Mom."

And then the spider-thing was on her, covering most of her mouth. It tasted strangely salty, metallic.

Suddenly her arm was free. It still felt cold and heavy, but somehow she raised it, and clawed at the spider. It almost came loose, but somehow it was wrapped around her face and the back of her head.

_Get the fuck off me!_

With her other arm suddenly free, she broke the spider's grip and flung it away. It clattered noisily to the floor.

Desperately she tried to brush away any other spiders from her body, but her arms were barely moving. When she saw the hand reaching for her arm, she shrieked and rolled away.

She was tumbling, falling. The room seemed to spin around her. Her scream felt more like a gurgle, as if she were submerged.

Then the pain hit her. A sharp pinprick in her arm, a heavy impact to her rump, and throbbing in her head. It was like a drug, bringing her mind into focus. _Dreams don't hurt, you're not dreaming._

She looked to her hurt arm, and there was no spider. There was something white and crumpled partly stuck to her arm - tape. She tried to look up, but doing so made the room spin. She groaned and tried to bring her trembling arms to her head. Her body still felt cold and heavy, and now her skin felt as if it was being perforated by millions of tiny needles.

"Mei Yun."

The voice was low and soft-spoken, but somehow even that sound made the throbbing worse. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to will the pain away.

"Mei Yun, can you understand me?"

_Who are you? How do you know my name? _Slowly she opened her eyes. She was greeted to the blurry sight of a pair of men's work boots.

But even her blurry vision did not miss the bloodstains on those boots. She blinked, and slowly looked up. The man standing before her also wore torn, burnt, bloodstained pants. The mostly-unblemished lime-green surgical scrubs were a welcome sight, but –

Yun gasped. The man's right eye was an inhuman, a pupil-less dark glittering sphere. That side of his face was sagging, and heavily dressed with a bloody bandage. The skin on his forehead was torn, but instead of flesh and blood there was a ghostly metallic gleam.

She scrambled away, as fast as her numbed body would allow. _This is not happening I hurt so bad I'm not dreaming I can't move I'm seeing blood everywhere -_

The abomination advanced. She shouted hoarsely "_Get away_!"

"_Officer Mei Yun, please calm down. I intend no harm."_

Yun hadn't even realized she was shouting in Mandarin, the language of her childhood. But the speaker responded without delay, in the same language. That returned her focus. Who else on board besides her was that fluent?

"Proxima?"

"Affirmative. Please calm down, I intend no harm."

Only Proxima spoke like that. She looked up again, to see him offering her a hand. She still winced at the sight of his face, but did not turn away.

"Is this real?" She asked tentatively. "I'm not still dreaming?"

"I do not understand your first question. But to the second, no, you are awake. Do you require assistance in standing up?"

The sound of his voice was reassuring, but Yun's headache drowned out his words. She looked around for some kind of display. She spotted a chronometer on the wall, and this time she could read it. It wasn't possible to feel pain or read letters and numbers in a dream.

She tried to stand up, but the numbing needle-like pains in her legs were too much. Reluctantly she tried to take Proxima's hand, but her struggle with the imaginary spider-thing had drained all her strength. Her body sagged on the cold floor. Proxima started to move closer.

"Stay back. I'm alr – aah…" Now her throat was so dry it hurt to talk.

"Officer Yun, your body is not yet fully recovered. You need to return to the bio-bed. If you are unable to move on your own power, I must carry you. Is that acceptable?"

She weakly nodded. With sudden, frightening speed, he lunged. Yun did the only thing she could: she squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would protect her.

Gently cradling her shoulders and the backs of her knees, Proxima scooped her off the floor as if she weighed no more than a toolbox. Her limbs dangled helplessly as he carried her towards a bed. This was hardly her preferred mode of transportation, although it did remind her of being swept off her feet on wedding day.

Yun's cheeks suddenly reddened, to the acute realization that she was clad only in her underwear. She turned her head, hoping Proxima wouldn't see. It was silly; being seen in one's underwear was an unavoidable fact of hyperspace travel. Granted being barely clad and alone with a man, not to mention being carried by him was different, but Proxima was an android. Why was she suddenly so shy?

He carefully laid her down on the bed, and wrapped a blanket around her. For the sake of warmth and modesty, she was grateful. He suddenly left, and returned with a water bottle. He elevated her back so she could drink.

"Be careful not to drink too quickly –"

Too late. A few drops only frustrated her, and she lunged forward to capture more. The water wasn't cold, but swallowing it was like swallowing steel. She spat and coughed.

The pain was excruciating. Each cough was an explosion of agony to her head, throat, and lungs. Her chest felt like it was exploding, her ribs tearing apart. She clutched her chest and curled into the fetal position. It was almost as bad as giving birth.

After an eternity of pain, her coughing died down. But despite her agony, she didn't miss the fact that Proxima had backed away. Twice he looked away from her. When he saw she had recovered, he tentatively offered water again. This time it went down easily. She ended up drinking the whole bottle.

She lay back, realizing even her scalp hurt. Her head still throbbed, but her body didn't feel quite so numb now. She could even move her arms and legs.

"Do you require anything? Pain suppressants?"

Yun opened her eyes and took in the room. She recognized the ship's infirmary, but something was wrong. There was a dank, musty odor.

_I'm seeing blood everywhere._

What was Proxima looking at? Her throat suddenly felt constricted.

"Yes," Yun answered slowly, "my head hurts. I could use some scrubs from the – uh, I could use some clothes." Her heart hammered painfully in her chest.

Proxima nodded and quickly darted into the adjoining room. As soon as his back was turned, Yun propped herself up on her elbows and scanned the room.

Then she saw what Proxima had been looking at: a bloodstained rifle resting on a nearby table. Her jaw dropped, and she turned to the center of the room, ignoring her head's throbbing protest.

There was more blood on the floor, near the central bio-bed. Upon it was a bloodstained linen-covered body.

_No no no its not a dream its real_

Footsteps, getting closer.

_Run hide run hide run hide_

With a sudden strength born of terror, Yun flung the blanket open and launched herself from the bed. Pain shot up her legs, and she almost fell.

_Don't fall can't fall you'll die_

Desperately she reached out. Just a little closer –

Too late. Her legs failed her, and her hands just barely missed the table. Her knees exploded as they hit the ground, and she couldn't stop the cry of pain from her lips.

"Officer Yun! Are you alright?"

So sincere, so gentle. She took a deep breath and propelled herself back up. Pain was nothing compared to what would happen if she failed.

"Officer Yun, you must return to bed."

That voice is a liar. Her shaking hands found their prize. She turned around slowly, knowing she could barely keep her balance.

"You are not fully –"

Proxima was right behind her, holding some scrubs and a hypospray. He fell silent as his cyclopean gaze locked with the Mitchell-Saito pistol in Yun's hands. His hands went slack, dropping their contents.

She flipped the safety off and tried to chamber a bullet. But she couldn't pull the slide all the way, her hand lacked the strength. _Goddamnit!_

Proxima reached out and plucked the gun from her shaky grasp, almost as an afterthought. Gasping, she turned and grabbed the other pistol she'd seen. She knew she had no hope of prevailing, but she also knew she had to try.

She scrambled around, putting the table between herself and Proxima. But he made no attempt to stop her, even as she raised her new pistol. Almost immediately she knew why.

He looked down at the MS-2 pistol he had taken from her. "Officer Yun, your actions were unnecessary. This weapon was already chambered. As for your current weapon, it is empty. I have not yet had the opportunity to reload it."

It was true. Yun was not a firearms expert, but she was familiar enough to recognize the feel of a spent pistol. But apparently she wasn't familiar enough to recognize a chambered pistol. She didn't even try to make a grab for the heavy-looking rifle on the table. Instead she clutched her empty weapon, prepared to pistol-whip Proxima for all the good that would do.

But he made no move to attack. Instead he casually ejected the pistol's clip. He also ejected the single bullet from the chamber, and put it back in the clip. For a pacifist android not allowed to carry guns, Proxima handled one like a professional. But Yun already considered him dangerous, so why should this surprise her?

"Officer Yun, I believe this weapon belongs to you. I apologize for taking it without your permission, but it was an emergency."

Astonishingly, Proxima offered the pistol and clip back to her.

"We are still in a state of emergency, and the ship is not safe. Please take your weapon, you may need it. But I must ask that you not take any action in haste, without hearing my full report."

She eyed him suspiciously. Proxima silently waited for her response. After a moment's hesitation, she dropped her empty weapon and snatched the pistol and clip from Proxima's hands.

Suddenly Yun felt like a little girl, grabbing for sweeties dangled just above her reach. Proxima looked like he'd been though hell, but if he was capable of hurting her, he could have easily done so while she was out.

For that matter, how long had she been out? Had the ship arrived home? What state of emergency? Where were the Captain and the rest of the crew? What had happened to Proxima? Her fears were rapidly being replaced by a burning need for answers.

Yun slapped the clip back in her pistol, but didn't try to chamber a round this time. Again Proxima made no move to stop her, though it was clearly within his power to do so. She made her decision.

"Alright, Proxima, you have a deal. So tell me: what the hell is going on here?"

*****

**Author's Notes:**

**I just turned 30, so I'm now officially a cranky old geezer, and my life's still a train wreck. Now also begins the final year of college. It's only the first day, and already I feel pressured. **

**On the other hand, I'm positively giddy to get this update out. For one: my last update was pretty short, and I promised myself I would finish another before school. For two: this is probably the only chapter where I get to engage in sheer nightmarish balls-to-the-walls mindfuckery. **

**This chapter contains references to Terminator (naturally) and the game System Shock 2. The title "Repulsion" and some of the content is also a reference to an old movie of the same name, in which a woman slowly loses her mind and commits murder. **

**In case anyone wants to know, a diathermic probe is a means of heating an internal organ with ultrasound or microwaves. **

**This is probably the last time I'll get to write until the end of the year, so hope everyone enjoys this update. And for anyone else starting school, good luck!**

**- MA**

**Edit: cleaned up a grammatical error and made a minor correction. Unless Yun has 3 hands, she can't load a new pistol while still carrying one already.**


	23. Mei Yun

**Chapter 23**

**Mei Yun**

"I would recommend that you get dressed. We must be moving as soon as possible."

"I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers," Yun countered, frustrated. Modesty was the least of her concerns.

"Then I must be brief. The rest of the crew is dead. The fusion reactor's cooling system is currently offline. Without repairs, estimated time to catastrophic overload is 57 minutes. The ship has been compromised by a hostile party, rendering Haddock unable to conduct repairs. I must do so, but first I must escort you to the lifeboat. If I fail, you must be prepared to evacuate. Do you understand?"

Yun stared at him in disbelief. Proxima had just spelled out an unprecedented nightmare scenario, in the same tone one might use to report a downed light bulb. All she could say was "What?"

"I repeat: the crew is dead. The ship is less than an hour away from destruction. Before I can attempt repairs, I must escort you to the lifeboat. You must be prepared to evacuate if I fail."

This time there was definite urgency in Proxima's tone. She had never heard him speak that way before. The crew was dead? She looked to the bloodstained linen-covered body atop the room's central bed.

"That is the body of the late Dr. Crease," Proxima related, his voice suddenly soft.

"Uncover him, I want to see."

"I would not recommend that. The visual condition of the body was distressing, even to me. Your reaction may be much more severe."

What could possibly upset an android? She hesitated, but not for long. Proxima did not stop her as she moved past him. She had to see for herself.

The last time Yun had seen a dead body was at her late grandfather's funeral. But unlike her grandfather, Dr. Crease's body would not have been painstakingly prepared for pubic viewing. Mindful of Proxima's warning, she tentatively uncovered the face.

Was this Dr. Crease? His face was unnaturally pale, and looked more like plastic than human flesh. She looked down, and saw the bloodied part of the linen covered the chest. She pulled the linen back further, revealing… something resembling the upturned lip of a bloody, torn, toothy, foul-smelling mouth.

That sight was enough. But she could not look away, nor could she stop herself from heaving the linen away.

"Yun –" Proxima warned, to no avail.

She gasped. _No no no its not a dream its real -_

She quickly turned away, but the damage was done. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, as if that would stop the odour of death from invading her. Instead she almost gave herself a mouthful of pistol. She staggered away, doubling over as she began to dry-heave. Her headache exploded in fresh pulsing agony. Right now she really wanted Daddy to hold her, reassure her there were no monsters lurking under the bed.

But her attention was drawn by another lingering scent: gunpowder. Suddenly her astronaut training took over; she might not be wearing a helmet that could be clogged with vomit, but she needed to save her strength. Gathering her wits, she took a measured breath. That made both her stomach and head churn more violently, but she expected that. She held her breath and tightened her throat, trying to stop her stomach contents from spilling.

Foul acid surged against her closed throat, as if it were a levy. Some escaped, burning her throat and tongue. Her stomach churned one more, but this time she held it in check. Finally her stomach began to settle, and she spat the escaped acid onto the ground. At last she could breathe. Even her headache had returned to a manageable dull throbbing pain.

Suddenly she realized Proxima was at her side, offering her more water. She took a sip to gargle with, to wash the bitter taste from her mouth. She glanced tentatively at the body. Proxima had covered it up again, and she was grateful for that.

But she was not ready to trust him yet. She stood up, refusing his offer of help. So Dr. Crease was truly dead. The taste of acid lingered in her mouth.

"Officer Yun, are you alright?"

"What happened to Dr. Crease?" She demanded.

Proxima didn't answer immediately, which seemed unusual for him. Perhaps he was surprised by her quick recovery.

"Dr. Crease's cryotube was compromised while he slept. He was infected with a virulent parasite. The creature's emergence from his body was fatal, as you saw."

Parasite? Forget tapeworms or botflies, Dr. Crease looked like he'd been torn apart by – she didn't know what. "You expect me to believe a parasite did all that damage?"

"A non-Terran parasite," Proxima answered firmly.

"Really?"

Yun's tone went from incredulity to outright scorn. No one had ever been killed by an alien life-form, because the only life ever found beyond Earth's biosphere amounted to microorganisms. Most of those alien microbes couldn't even interact with human physiology. Now Proxima was claiming to have found an alien life-form that was not just higher-order, but posed a direct physical threat to human life? That was as outrageous and unprecedented as - _oh shit_.

"The artifact!" Yun shouted – and instantly regretted it. Her headache returned in full force, almost severe enough to make her queasy again. She forced herself to breathe regularly.

"Do you require anything for the pain?"

She continued, softly but, she hoped, firmly. "How do you know all this? What happened to the rest of the crew? Why were you and I spared? Who's responsible for all this?"

Again he paused before answering, "The answers to your questions are quite verbose, and we do not have time for that. To answer your third question, I can only speculate I was spared because I am an android. As for yourself, you were not spared."

Yun blinked in surprise. "What do you mean? You said the rest of the crew was dead."

Proxima nodded slowly. "Yes, now. To answer your second question, when I found the crew, you were among them. You and Lt. Hagen were still alive, but barely. Captain Scott, Wallace, and Carnes were dead, their bodies in the same condition as Dr. Crease."

His voice again became soft. "Lt. Hagen succumbed to her infection shortly after I found her. You were the only one I could recover."

Yun stiffened, her free hand automatically clutching her bare chest. Proxima's undisguised artificial eye did not appear to move, but the other that still appeared human followed her movement.

His cyclopean gaze returned to hers. "Your action suggests you are concerned you may also be infected. I do not believe that is so. You were suffering from acute post-hypersleep arrest syndrome, but you have none of the symptoms the late Lt. Hagen had."

Yun did not feel particularly reassured. She also felt very exposed, and hobbled over to the scrubs Proxima had dropped. She tried to retrieve them, but her headache stopped her. Reluctantly she looked to him for help.

With startling speed Proxima darted towards her. She let out a surprised yelp, momentarily afraid he was going to attack her. Instead he grabbed the scrubs and offered them to her. Yun was still wary of him, but realized she had little chance of fighting him off in her condition, even with a gun. She set it down on Proxima's nearby equipment table, and donned the scrubs as quickly as possible. But they weren't made for warmth. If anything, she felt colder.

Proxima retrieved the empty pistol Yun had dropped earlier. He set it down on the table, and retrieved 2 pistol clips from his pocket. With quick and precise movements, he emptied the bullets from one clip, one by one. He also took 3 bullets from the other clip. Yun watched with morbid fascination, as he reloaded and chambered the other pistol. It must have a larger clip size.

"Proxima can I borrow that pistol?" she asked tentatively.

"If you wish," he answered without hesitating. He evidently didn't consider her a threat. Given the bloodstains on his clothes and his apparent proficiency in firearms, she supposed she should be grateful for that.

But Yun was not without proficiency of her own. She carefully brought the gun's muzzle to her nose, and inhaled. She also retrieved her own pistol and sniffed its muzzle again. Though she was not surprised by the scents, her brow furrowed.

"Proxima, these weapons have both been fired recently. Did you fire them?"

His tone was suddenly curious. "Are you able to detect a weapon's usage pattern by your olfactory sense?"

That sounded more like the innocent android science officer Yun remembered. She relaxed, but only slightly. "Yes, I know what gunpowder residue smells like. I can tell these guns haven't been cleaned since they were last fired. Was that you?"

"Affirmative, I discharged the weapons." Proxima was back to being stoic.

"Why? And since when are you a gun expert?"

"I will gladly answer all of your questions at the appropriate time. Our immediate priority is the ship's fusion reactor. We now have an estimated 53 minutes before catastrophic overload. Haddock can confirm this.

I will repeat: the ship has been compromised by a hostile party, rendering Haddock unable to conduct repairs. Before I can conduct repairs, I must escort you to the lifeboat. You must be prepared to evacuate if I fail. Do you understand?"

So much for being relaxed. Yun felt as if she were being drowned in critical information. Could she take this bloodied gun-wielding android at his word?

She handed Proxima back the larger pistol and rubbed her temple. This headache was making her foolish. Haddock should be able to verify at least some of Proxima's account. She started towards the nearest terminal, but he stopped her.

"Wait, you may need this." Proxima offered her his last pistol clip.

"You don't need it?"

"I have the late Lt. Hagen's laser rifle."

Even if Yun knew how to use the rifle, she doubted she would be very effective right now. Still she couldn't help but remember how Wallace had complained about being under-armed. She had jokingly asked him if he needed his hand held.

He was really dead? They were all dead?

Yun ignored Proxima's offered clip for the moment, and moved back to the terminal. She pressed a random button, and it lit up.

"Haddock on-line. Identify yourself."

The Irish-accented voice surprised her. "Haddock? Is that you?"

"Affirmative, please identify yourself, either verbally or by the indicated terminal."

Yun saw that Haddock's words had appeared on the terminal, instead of the usual login screen. This was unexpected. Haddock didn't usually interact by voice, at least not for a simple login.

"Mei Yun."

"Voice pattern Mei Yun verified. As you are currently not alone, please use the terminal to enter your security code."

Yun frowned. "Haven't you already verified my voice?"

"Affirmative. However I am currently operating on heightened security status, as per Captain Haddock's last order. In addition, Mei Yun has been detected in another location. I must ensure you are not an imposter. Please use the terminal to enter your security code."

Imposter? What on Earth was Haddock talking about? Why was he even talking to begin with? All these new developments and oddities were making Yun's headache worse. She turned back to Proxima.

"I think I could use that painkiller now."

"As you wish," he answered, and approached her with the hypospray he had retrieved earlier. Rather than let him apply it, she took it from him.

"Thanks, I can do it myself." Unwilling to put down her gun, she applied it left-handed. With a soft hiss, the hypospray's medicinal contents bloodlessly penetrated the skin on her neck, directly into the carotid artery.

Proxima seemed to recognize her wariness and stepped back, and she was grateful for that. She turned to the terminal and – what was her code? Her head still hurt, and it seemed ages since she had last done this. Was it her son's birthday?

"Error: security code incorrect. Please try again."

Realizing she'd made a mistake with her left-handed typing, she tried again.

"Error: security code incorrect. Please try again, but be advised that a third unsuccessful login attempt will result in a temporary account lockdown."

Yun gritted her teeth in frustration, which didn't help her headache. Lockdown after only 3 failed logins? Why was Haddock giving her such a hard time? Reluctantly she again set aside her pistol to type with both hands. Almost by reflex her fingers entered the numbers that corresponded to her son's birthday, followed by his name.

"Security code verified. Hello Officer Mei Yun."

Again she was surprised. First Proxima turned weekend-warrior, now Haddock was being personable?

"Hello," she answered uncertainly. "Um, what's the story Haddock?"

'_What's the story?' That's very professional_. She cringed further at the sight of her words transcribed into text on the terminal screen. Inanely she almost tried to cover the screen from an onlooker, as if that would stop someone from hearing her. Proxima had already gone back to his weapons-table, and showed no reaction to her exchange.

"Error: command unclear. Please rephrase."

She could barely concentrate with this headache. She went silent, breathing deeply, until the painkiller finally took effect.

"Haddock, what's the ship's status?"

She wasn't prepared for the explosion of alarm klaxons all around her, aggravating her headache in spite of the painkiller. With a small cry, she futilely covered her ears.

Proxima shouted something and the alarms mercifully ceased, but her renewed headache took longer to subside. Haddock was also saying something.

"Haddock stop. Please don't do that again."

"Acknowledged, my apologies Officer Yun."

She rubbed her temples briefly. Then with a start, she realized that every terminal in the room – including the medical monitors – had turned red.

"What's the ship's status?"

"Emergency alert: main fusion reactor primary cooling system offline. Estimated time to critical mass is 51 minutes, 34 seconds."

With that, every terminal in the room prominently displayed Haddock's dire alert, along with a countdown clock. And he wasn't even done.

"Biohazard alert: biological contamination detected in crawl-section K-3-5. Level of infestation spread unknown, criticality unknown."

"Wait!" Yun cried, realizing that Haddock had even more to report. "The ship is infested? With what? Should I be wearing hazmat gear?"

"Details of infestation are unknown at this time. Officer Yun, be advised: you have already been exposed. Wearing a protective suit may not change anything at this point."

Yun's jaw dropped.

"I have 2 additional alerts. Are you ready to hear them?"

Numbly she answered "yes" in a small voice.

"Security alert: intrusion detected. Multiple hostile organisms detected in crawl-section K-3-5. They have destroyed every maintenance robot in the area. They have also attacked Science Officer Proxima. Currently they appear to be inert, but my ability to track them is limited."

At the mention of his name, Yun turned to face Proxima. He was focused on cleaning the blood from his rifle-muzzle. She again noted his bloodied and burnt clothes, his torn, sagging face, and his exposed glittering metallic right eye. What sort of organisms could do all that damage to an android? Especially one armed to the teeth? She quickly retrieved her pistol again.

"Security alert: crew status. Captain Ridley Scott, current status: deceased. Executive Officer Janet Hagen, current status: deceased. Crew members Donald Crease, Ian Wallace, Allan Carnes, current statuses: deceased.

Officer Yun, be advised that you are the sole surviving crewmember. Until that status changes, you are now officially in command of the _Galileo_. Do you concur?"

Yun didn't think it possible, but now she felt even more overwhelmed. It was as if the weight of the entire starship just landed squarely upon her slender shoulders. Was she really the only one left? She avoided Haddock's declaration for now.

"Haddock, how did the crew die?"

There was a long pause. Yun rarely had occasion to interact directly with Haddock, but given what she knew about the processing speed of these ship-controllers, this delay seemed unusual.

"My information is incomplete. Status of the crew was determined by visual records obtained by a maintenance unit in section K-3-5. The bodies of Captain Scott, Mr. Wallace, and Mr. Carnes were in the same condition as Dr. Crease. It is logical to infer that they died in a similar fashion."

"What about Lt. Hagen?"

Another long pause. "Lt. Hagen succumbed to her infection shortly after Proxima found her. You were the only one he could recover."

Yun frowned. Haddock had repeated Proxima's exact words verbatim. She didn't recall Proxima speaking that way, as if his answers were memorized or pre-recorded. Then again he was programmed for human interaction, perhaps Haddock wasn't? But what was with his and Proxima's long pauses?

She shook her sudden suspicion off. _Focus Mei, the big red countdown clock._

"Haddock, what's wrong with the fusion rector?"

"Emergency alert: main fusion reactor primary cooling system offline. Estimated time –"

"Yes you already told me that," an annoyed Yun interrupted. "Why is the cooling system offline?"

Proxima suddenly spoke over Haddock.

"Excuse me Officer Yun, we do not have time for this."

Yun turned to see that Proxima had stopped his rifle cleaning and stood up.

"This will only take a – wait _what?_ Haddock what did you just say?"

"Sabotaged."

Yun didn't have to ask for clarification, as her conversation was transcribed into text on the terminal screen. Sabotaged? Who could have done that out here in deep space? One of the crew? Surely not, both Proxima and Haddock said they were all dead.

For the second time Yun's thoughts formed the expletive: _oh shit_.

"Don't tell me the alien artifact did this!"

"Negative."

That stopped her short. "Oh. Then who's responsible?"

Again Proxima spoke up, "Officer Yun, please. Once you are safe on-board the lifeboat, Haddock can give you a full debriefing."

Yun chided herself for wasting valuable time. Proxima had claimed the ship was in danger, and Haddock had abundantly confirmed it. The details could wait.

Except for one.

"Haddock who sabotaged the cooling system?"

"Science officer Proxima."

It was Yun's turn to pause. Was this a joke? "Say again Haddock?"

"Science officer Proxima."

AIs didn't joke. Hairs on the back of Yun's neck rose. "Proxima, is this true?"

Without pause, he answered "Affirmative Officer Yun, I sabotaged the cooling system."

Her mouth yawned open, as the room suddenly seemed to spin. Her hand suddenly flew to her pistol's slide. This time she didn't have any trouble chambering the bullet. Though she did not point at Proxima, she hoped the threat was very clear.

"Proxima step away from those weapons."

After a short, but chilling moment, he did.

"Why?" Her question was barely a whisper.

"I saw no alternative. Further details will have to wait."

Yun's finger tapped gently on the trigger-guard. "Why should I trust you?"

A sudden hard edge came to Proxima's voice. "Because I saved your life."

Yun faltered. Somehow Proxima was even more intimidating now, even though she had the gun. No wonder, considering how effortlessly he had disarmed her earlier.

Proxima suddenly lifted his scrubs over his head and tossed them aside. "What are you –" Yun fell silent at the sight of the hole in his chest.

In spite of herself, Yun edged closer. The wound was roughly circular, about the size of a fist, and glistened with some kind of milky fluid. Torn artificial skin hung from the edges like remnants of a skin-coloured plastic bag. A smooth, thicker foamy lining had also been torn away, revealing a mesh of brightly-coloured cables, wires, and tubes of varying sizes. A tangle of lines hung partly out of the breach like bizarre intestines.

Yun backed away. It was one thing for her to be told Proxima was a machine, but it was quite another to literally have his artificial guts shoved in her face. Even more disconcerting was Proxima's interior actually appeared more organic than artificial. Organic, but decidedly alien.

And she thought he had been badly damaged _before _seeing this? Didn't Dr. Crease also have a gaping hole in his chest? "What happened to you?"

"I was attacked by multiple creatures shortly before I found you. One of them struck my chest before I could stop it. My eye and face were also damaged by one of the creatures, in a separate earlier encounter."

Yun visibly shuddered, and again wondered what sort of… monster was capable of this. Correction – _monsters._ She spared a glance at Dr. Crease's covered body.

Proxima saw her looking, and explained "I did not witness the initial attack and infection of the crew. But the resulting parasite I did witness bore a distinct resemblance to the larger creatures that attacked me. It is logical to infer the parasites are the infant form."

Yun had heard enough. "Alright Proxima you can cover up now."

He retrieved his scrubs, but did not put them back on. Instead he held them over his wound to cover it.

"Officer Yun, I understand that you do not trust me. Nevertheless the logical course of action is for you to evacuate to the lifeboat. If you wish, you may proceed alone, but you run a high risk of being re-captured by the creatures. As repairing the cooling system is my top priority, I may not have enough time to reach you before you suffer the same xeno-infection that killed the others. So will you allow me to escort you?"

Yun's recent nightmare of spiders came to her unbidden. She took a deep breath and relaxed her gun-arm. "Alright Proxima, I'll go with you." Then, hoping she sounded stern rather than afraid, she added "But sabotaging the cooling system? You had better have a very good explanation for that."

"Affirmative."

Moving quickly, Proxima grabbed the spare pistol clip and offered it again. Yun only briefly hesitated before accepting the offer.

"Before we leave, I must conduct repairs." He grabbed some medical supplies, a mirror, and put on a pair of antistatic gloves from a toolbox. He set the mirror upright on a table, reflecting his wound.

"Proxima how bad is it?"

"One moment please."

Yun watched in silence. Proxima raised his left arm and appeared to flex it, as if he were showing off his muscles. He kept doing that, his eyes fixed on the mirror. Then one of the many tangles of wires and tubes began to leak more copiously. He flexed again, this time resulting in a fine spray. He sprayed artificial skin over the apparent source of the leak. Using both gloved hands, he also applied waterproof tape. He flexed again, this time there was no spray. Apparently satisfied, he pushed his artificial entrails back into the wound, and covered up the entire area with tape.

"Be prepared to move out." Proxima hastily put back on his scrubs and gathered his equipment and weapons.

"To answer your question, my damage was moderate to severe. The creatures' attacks resulted in 2 hydraulic leaks, which if left unchecked, could have immobilized my limbs."

Proxima talked as he prepared. He put on a cracked safety helmet with a flashlight crudely taped on.

"My temporary repairs have contained the leaks, but I do not yet know if my physical performance has been affected." He strapped a harness across his shoulders, and attached the big rifle.

"As for severe damage, the last attack damaged my primary power supply. Power failure is inevitable, but I cannot say when."

"Wait," Yun interrupted, "what does that mean? You're dying?"

"Incorrect." Proxima attached some kind of tactical console to his rifle, and added: "I was never alive."

Yun fell silent again.

Proxima checked his ammunition as he continued, "My secondary power supply will activate in the event of failure, but its capabilities are inferior, and the switch will leave me incapacitated for several minutes."

He checked his own pistol in its holster, and ensured the holster was securely clipped to his belt. He didn't offer Yun the holster since she didn't have a belt right now. He shoved a previously-unnoticed flamethrower into his utility pack, and heaved it across his shoulders.

"Lastly there may be loose metallic fragments in my chest-rupture, which pose a risk of a lethal electric shock. But I do not have time to address this. Are you prepared to move out?"

Proxima's brush with death – or destruction rather, and his matter-of-fact attitude about it was very disconcerting. What was he saying now? Yun needed to prepare to move out.

Her preparation amounted to shoving her spare clip in her scrub pocket.

"Please allow me to take point." Suddenly Proxima darted towards the infirmary door. Pitch darkness loomed beyond, barely illuminated by flashing red emergency lights. It looked like a great dark bloody mouth. Proxima plunged right in, and activated his makeshift headlight. He looked both ways with rifle brandished, before calling it clear. In spite of numerous misgivings, Yun hurried after him.

The hallways and rooms of the _Galileo_ had always been bleak and impersonal, but they had been well-lit and familiar. Now Yun hardly recognized the place she had lived and worked in for so long. She had only ever seen emergency lights active during training drills. Their intermittent blood-red flashes only served to heighten her tension. Proxima's headlight didn't help much, as his body blocked most of the light. The floor was like ice under her bare feet. The air was stale, dank, and apart from their footfalls, deathly quiet.

Yun gripped her pistol tightly as she ran, and made sure to keep her finger on the outside of the trigger-guard. Her spare clip bounced precariously, prompting her to brace it with her other hand. She tried to watch her footing in the near-dark, as well as look out for unknown lurking dangers. But that only slowed her down. Proxima was faster than a shadow, despite his equipment load. As he got further ahead and the darkness swallowed her even further, she quickly resigned herself to watching her footing only. But even then she couldn't keep pace.

Thankfully he slowed down once he realized her plight. "Your locker is on the way, you can get footwear then," he explained while moving. Along with his body, his head was constantly moving as he looked ahead, to his gun-console, and back to her. He managed all that without losing his footing. _It must be nice being an android._

Once they reached the fork in the corridor he slowed down, and edged along the wall. He eyed his console, and carefully peeked around the corner. Again he called it clear in a harsh whisper, and moved on. It was only a short distance to the next hatch, and she almost bumped into him when he stopped. Strangely enough the hatch was already opened. He surprised her again by also aiming up towards the ceiling, before calling the locker room clear.

The locker room was no better-illuminated than the hallway. Emergency lights were replaced by glowing red countdown clocks on every terminal, but it wasn't an improvement. Proxima shined his light towards her locker, saving her the trouble of fumbling in the dark. She realized her lock had been burned right off. This time she suppressed the urge to ask another twenty questions. She set aside her pistol and clip.

While she hastily tore off her scrubs, Proxima explained "I broke into the crews' lockers searching for a weapon. I apologize for violating your privacy."

"As long as you weren't out to steal my underwear," Yun quipped, though it was partly to cover up a sudden renewed nervousness of being almost naked with Proxima. She donned her jumpsuit and boots in record time.

"Officer Yun I assure you I would never engage in such conduct. It would be socially inappropriate and unprofessional. Furthermore your undergarments would be of no use to me in this current state of emergency."

To her surprise, Yun giggled under her breath. Again this sounded more like the old Proxima. "I was joking," she reassured him. Actually he had done a better job of reassuring her than he probably intended. Her headache was even gone now.

"Ah. That was most humorous," he remarked, though he remained watchful.

Still smiling, Yun pocketed her spare clip. She was very glad for the warmth and deep pockets of her suit. Boots were nice too; running barefoot on cold metal-grated floors was not fun. She spared a moment to pat down her zipped suit pockets, until she felt the small box inside containing her wedding band. Her eyes fell on her old photo with her husband and son. It always warmed her heart before, but this time a chill went through her. No longer smiling, she closed her locker.

"Haddock, please activate low-level lights in the hypersleep chamber until we have left," Proxima commanded. "Yun, be advised the hypersleep chamber was raided by the creatures when they abducted the crew. The debris could cause injury, please watch your step."

Yun nodded. Taking a short moment to let her eyes adjust to the light, she followed him in. After everything she had heard and seen, she didn't think anything else could shock her.

She was wrong.

The crews' cryotubes had been twisted and torn open like candy wrappers. Those things were supposed to be as hard as steel! It wasn't long ago that she had slept in one of those! The thought of a creature with such sheer strength dragging her almost-naked body off to some unspeakable fate chilled her to the bone.

"Holy Moses," she whispered. Her stomach began to churn again.

"Yun we must hurry," Proxima reminded her.

Fear suddenly exploded into outrage. "How the _fuck_ did this happen? Where was Haddock? He was supposed to be on watch!"

"I'm sure Haddock will be just as fourthcoming with his own misconduct as he was with mine," Proxima replied.

Unfortunately that was the wrong thing to say. "And where the hell were you? You just slept through all this shit?!"

The hard edge returned to Proxima's voice. "Office Yun, these outbursts serve no purpose."

Yun glared at him silently.

"Even if I had been active, I would have been without weapons or advanced warning. The probability of my stopping the creatures' attack on the crew would have been miniscule. Even with heavy armament and support from Haddock, I was barely able to rescue you. You saw the damage they inflicted on me."

Yun remained silent, but her gaze softened.

"If I have not earned your temporary trust, then you should proceed to the lifeboat without me."

That did it. "No wait, I'm sorry. Its just – nevermind. I'll go with you." _Of course he's calm about all this. He's an android, didn't you get the memo?_

"I concur."

Yun took a deep breath, and hurried through the room. She gave the destroyed cryotubes a wide berth. Proxima's modified cryotube was undamaged. She noticed one tube that had not been torn open, but instead had a hole melted or burned through.

Proxima explained while still keeping watch, "The creatures are capable of secreting or bleeding highly corrosive fluid. It is logical to infer they have used this ability to breach Dr. Crease's cryotube, though I do not know why only his tube was breached in this manner."

Yun grimaced, but didn't linger. She noticed Proxima was again checking the ceiling for threats. He also seemed wary of the room's air vents. With the lights on, she tried to match his alert posture. He stopped briefly to rummage through a supply closet, and offered her a spare flashlight.

"Thanks." Suddenly it occurred to her: _You'll thank him for a flashlight, but not for saving your life?_

She snapped out of her sudden doubt. Proxima was waiting for her, at the entrance to the auxiliary control room. Holding her flashlight in her left hand, she hurried after him. Why was he taking her there?

Of course. The main shuttle bay was out of the question thanks to that alien _thing_. Good thing the lifeboat bay was separate from the main shuttle bay. Strange, she always passed her emergency drills with flying colours. Now she was having a hard time recalling the simplest details. Hopefully Proxima knew how to get there.

As soon as they were inside the auxiliary control room, the hypersleep chamber lights went off, again plunging them into near darkness. Yun's heart leaped into her throat, and she quickly turned on her flashlight. Proxima's response was to turn the room's lights on.

"Show off," a slightly flustered Yun muttered under her breath. She turned her flashlight off.

The room wasn't exactly inviting, but at least it appeared the same as during her last safety drill. No trace of impossible horrors here, just a disused stale-smelling supply room with backup cryotubes and an old computer console. Once satisfied the area was secure, Proxima took some kind of breathing mask into his mouth, and inhaled deeply. Yun hadn't noticed it hanging from his neck before.

"What is that for?"

"It assists my body with heat dissipation," Proxima explained briefly.

He rummaged through the overloaded supply shelf, and retrieved 3 safety helmets. He gave one to an again-grateful Yun. In addition to head protection, radio, and headlight, the helmets protected the ears against loud noises. Yun slipped her handheld flashlight in her pocket. Proxima replaced his own damaged helmet, and tore the duct-taped flashlight off his old helmet. The flashlight and spare helmet he stored in his backpack.

Proxima moved towards the centre of the room, and opened a hatch set in the floor. Yun remembered this hatch led to the lifeboat. She again noted with annoyance that the hatch still wasn't clearly marked as an emergency escape route. If the company bean-counters had their way, she wondered if there would be any evacuation measures at all, let alone drills.

The hatch depressed and slid sideways into the floor, revealing a long dark shaft with a metal-grated stairwell and an open-air lift anchored into the sides. Again the unnerving red emergency lights kept the passage lit. At least the stairs were wide enough for two people side-by side. Proxima cautiously gazed down the shaft. Yun noticed his console attachment was making a faint thumping sound every second.

Apparently Proxima wasn't satisfied the stairwell was clear. He started to remove his backpack, but Yun stopped him. Recognizing he couldn't reach into his pack without lowering his guard, she darted behind him.

"What do you need?"

"The spare flashlight."

Yun retrieved the flashlight he had duct-taped to his old helmet. Polite even in the direst of circumstances, he thanked her. He turned on the light, and dropped it down the space between the stairs and the lift. Proxima's console immediately chirped in response, startling Yun. Together they watched as his flashlight fell dozens of meters, its light dancing and spiraling until it disappeared into the red gloom. The chirping from his console also quieted down, until it fell silent. She barely heard the flashlight hit the bottom.

Yun wasn't sure of the point of that exercise, but didn't ask. Proxima quickly darted down the stairs, and still managed to outpace her. The emergency lift had its own independent power supply, and thankfully it was fully functional. Yun flinched as it began its noisy grinding descent.

Proxima's console began chirping again, and he adjusted it. "Officer Yun, be advised that discharging your pistol in this area poses a ricochet hazard. Please exercise due caution."

Yun nodded, but didn't put away her pistol. She indicated his console. "Proxima what does that do?"

"This is a tactical motion sensor. It uses ultrasonic bursts to scan for air movement."

He must have also gotten it from Lt. Hagen. She wondered when and why the XO had given up her equipment, but didn't ask. This wasn't the time for idle chatter, even if it eased her nervousness. She tried to keep watch as they rode the lift in silence.

Proxima's motion tracker suddenly chirped, startling them both this time. Like a spring his hand shot to the lift console, stopping their descent.

"What is it? Trouble?"

"Unknown." That one word turned her blood to ice.

Proxima motioned for her to be quiet. Through his rifle sights he quickly swept through their current floor, the stairwell across from the lift, and upwards. Yun edged closer to keep an eye on his motion tracker while keeping watch. His tracker had only chirped once – or was it twice? Either way it was eerily silent now. There was no sign of anything in the shaft besides them. Proxima even looked over the edge of the lift.

Finally his posture relaxed. "False alarm," he declared, and restarted the lift.

Yun shivered as she took the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her head began to throb painfully again. She pressed the fingers of her free hand into her neck, and wasn't surprised to find her pulse racing as if she had run a marathon with a full backpack. Trusting Proxima to keep watch, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths. Couldn't this damned lift move any faster?

Yun's anxiety level eventually returned to something resembling normal. She opened her eyes and reluctantly looked to Proxima. Should she apologize for not keeping watch with him? Or for giving him such a hard time after he had saved her life? When Proxima's single eye moved from his rifle sights to her, she quickly looked away, embarrassed. Collecting herself, she resumed her watch in silence.

Finally the lift arrived at the lifeboat bay, which surprisingly was clearly marked. A metal grated landing platform was mounted on the side of the shaft, allowing access from either the lift or the stairwell. The lift's safety railings automatically retracted, clearing the way. Yun motioned for Proxima to keep watch while she checked the hatch panel. Thankfully the passage beyond had automatically pressurized and the hatch unlocked when the emergency alert was declared.

There was a slight hiss as the airtight hatch opened, causing several chirps from Proxima's motion tracker. At Yun's worried glance, Proxima shook his head to indicate another false alarm. He again took point, and she followed him into yet another gloomy-red corridor.

Proxima's tracker chirped again. Before the hatch moved to close.

"_GET DOWN!_" Proxima roared. If Yun hadn't been faster, the swing of his rifle probably would have taken her head off. She hit the deck facedown just as the tunnel exploded with a blinding seething roar. Without her helmet's ear-protection the blast would have been deafening. Fast as she could she rolled sideways onto her back, pistol ready. Proxima's discharge had seared right through a safety railing and left a smoking blackened mark on the shaft wall. But apart from that, she saw nothing.

"Get behind me. Back away." Proxima ordered.

Yun quickly rose to her feet. Awkwardly she stepped back, hoping she wouldn't trip. Proxima also began to back away from the hatch. Once they were a few steps back, the hatch automatically slid shut. His motion tracker ceased to chirp, leaving them again in eerie silence. But not for long.

"Yun! Our position is not secure! Go! I will cover your escape!"

Yun's eyes went wide, and she bolted down the corridor. She had no idea what Proxima had seen, but all manner of unspeakable horrors were coming to mind. The most frightening thought: _something_ been in the lift with them the whole time!

Proxima continued backing away from the hatch. This time Yun left him behind. The corridor led to another airtight hatch. Once Yun arrived, she heard Proxima racing after her. It seemed to take forever for the hatch to slide open.

Suddenly something heavy hit the floor. Yun spun around with a gasp. Proxima was down.

"Proxima! Are you alright?"

No response. Her heart pounded in her ears.

She ran back towards him. What was she supposed to do? Give him CPR? Look for a hand-crank?

"Come on Proxima stay with me!"

His lips didn't move, but a pre-recorded voice played from his mouth: "_Warning, primary power supply malfunction."_

"On your feet Proxima!"

"_Power levels insufficient. Shutting down non-essential –"_

Distracted with Proxima, she almost didn't hear the soft hissing noise. But with the chirp of his motion tracker, her head shot up.

_No no no it's not a dream it's real!_

A single gunshot was all she could release. Undeterred, the fleshy spider-thing flew straight at her head. Reflexively her arms came up, and it hit her with the force of a sledgehammer. She went down.

Spindly limbs bit into her arms harshly. Its snakelike tail whipped at her head, but her helmet caught it. Desperately she flung her arms out, and the spider flew away. It landed on its back, but instantly it got back up.

_Oh shit_! Yun had dropped her pistol! Compared to the impossible speed the spider was skittering towards her, she seemed to be moving in slow motion. Look down, left, right, spot pistol, reach out to retrieve –

The spider slammed into her again before her fingers even touched her pistol. With only one arm up to defend, this time it got close enough to hit its apparent mark: its tail whipped around her throat. It was soft, but horribly strong as it choked her. She clawed at her throat futilely and gasped for air. Black spots swirled at the edges of her vision.

Desperately she reached out for her pistol. _Fuck_! Where was it! She couldn't find it! By now she couldn't breathe at all. She clubbed at the thing with her spare flashlight, to no avail. Gradually her struggles weakened. The spider let go of her arm. From its tail, it drew itself closer to her face.

Suddenly the spider's grip slackened. It was the sweetest, most painful gasping breath she ever took. She looked up to see a disturbingly phallic-shaped tube aimed at her mouth.

_It's time, Mom_.

But there was something else: Proxima's face. Completely devoid of any expression, his one unblinking human eye fixed on the spider thing. He had some of its limbs crushed in his one hand as he pulled its body away. With his other hand he unwrapped the choking tail from her neck. A sharp seemingly-angry hiss escaped his mouth.

Yun wanted nothing more than to just lie down here and breathe again. But she knew she couldn't. Proxima was back on his feet, but even he was having difficulty holding the twisting writhing monstrosity at bay. He held it up high.

"Yun! Your weapon!"

Again Yun felt as if she was swimming through molasses as she found her pistol and got up. Automatically she pointed at the spider.

"Hold your fire! I am going to throw it!"

"Yes!" Yun shouted hoarsely.

"Ready?"

Yun didn't have time to acknowledge. The spider's tail broke Proxima's grasp and smashed his head sideways.

"_NOW_!" Proxima blindly flung the spider down the corridor. Again it was up almost the instant it hit the floor.

Yun let out a cry that was equal parts terror and fury as she opened fire. This time her aim was true. Astonishingly the spider kept coming, albeit slower. While her second shot missed, Proxima's shot did not. His blast seared the spider in half. It slumped to the floor, but its legs continued twitching. Yun stopped shooting, but didn't take her eyes off the thing.

Apparently Proxima wasn't convinced the threat was ended either. He reloaded his rifle like it was a pump-action shotgun and moved in closer. Had he fired that thing twice on the same shell? Yun pressed against the wall to keep the spider's twitching body in her sights, but she wasn't going anywhere near that horrid thing. Presently it began to give off steam or smoke. She remembered Proxima's warning about creatures bleeding corrosive fluid.

"Yun we have a problem!"

She saw it too: the body was actually melting or dissolving right through the floor!

Proxima swiveled and began racing towards her. "We're too close to the outer hull! Breach could be imminent!"

_Fuck._ Acrid fumes from the body were already making Yun's eyes water. She began to cough – as if her throat didn't already hurt enough. Somehow, running solely on adrenalin, she propelled herself towards the other hatch.

Proxima caught up with her. Again he swept off her feet and carried her like a bride. While she was grateful for his support, she didn't miss the fact that he appeared to be breathing much heavier than usual. Plus didn't he experience a power outage just moments earlier?

"Proxima you don't have to carry me. I can move on my own."

Proxima spat out his mask, so he could respond. "Acknowledged, but I can move faster."

Yun couldn't argue with that. The faster they got away from that melting body, the easier she could breathe – particularly if that thing ate through the hull. Proxima reopened the other hatch, and finally they were free and clear. She breathed deeply.

Proxima didn't put her down yet. He spoke into his radio, "Haddock, be advised of possible hull breach in our area. Please seal off the lifeboat bay."

"Officer Yun, do you concur with his assessment?"

"Yes I concur."

"Acknowledged."

Yun addressed Proxima, "Put me down, I'm good."

"Negative, not until we reach the lifeboat."

Yun considered arguing the point, but her sore throat changed her mind. Idly it occurred to her that if he kept sweeping her off her feet, people might get the wrong impression. Then again, people couldn't gossip if they were dead.

The lifeboat bay amounted to little more than a larger hallway with a long window. There were two lifeboat hatches at either end, one of them taped off. Upon their entry the window slid open. The disconcerting pitch-black of hyperspace was broken only by the lit-up underside of the ship's sole lifeboat clamped to the exterior hull. The other lifeboat had been grounded for maintenance. Naturally some fool bureaucrat still saw fit to clear the _Galileo_ for flight.

Proxima moved as he spoke, "Haddock, lifeboat status?"

"Launch preparations complete. Lifeboat _Theseus_ is clear to launch."

Yun was surprised the lifeboat was already prepped in-advance of their arrival, but wasn't about to question any good fortune. Proxima finally put her down, and escorted her into the lifeboat's cockpit without incident.

Yun took the pilot's seat. Proxima sat down in the co-pilot's chair, and spared a moment to breathe deeply into his mask. His heavy breathing returned to normal quickly. Yun rubbed her throat gently.

"Proxima what was that thing?"

"Unknown. That creature was different from the ones I encountered, smaller. Its corrosive fluid also seemed much stronger than the others. Also it ignored me while I was down and defenseless. It appears you were its primary target."

Yun shivered with revulsion. Proxima didn't even know what designs that thing had on her. By now her adrenalin had worn off, leaving her in a world of pain. Her throat, knees, forearms, even her lungs hurt. She drew her arms around her body as if suffering from cold. Everyone was dead. This spider-creature was bad enough, but there were more of them? Larger and stronger? Her shuddering breaths almost turned to sobs.

"Officer Yun, are you alright?"

His voice brought her back into focus. As Haddock said, she was officially in command of the ship. A commander couldn't afford to fall apart like this in front of her crew, even if it was a crew of one android. She straightened out, and forced herself to breathe normally.

"I'll be fine. Proxima what about you?"

"I experienced a brief power shortage earlier, resulting in a temporary shutdown of non-essential systems. For the moment I am functional. I am sorry I was not better able to defend you."

She shook her head firmly, "It wasn't your fault."

"Acknowledged. Officer Yun, be advised I cannot be completely certain the creature was neutralized. Its limbs were still moving."

Automatically Yun reached for her pistol.

"The creature used its corrosive fluid to gain access to the hallway before it attacked you. If the lifeboat bay hatch is compromised, an alarm will sound. In such an event, you must launch immediately. Do not wait for me, I repeat, do not wait for me."

At the prospect of being left alone, Yun shivered again. "Wait, you're going back out there? What if you lose power again?"

"I see no alternative. I am prepared to take that risk."

Forbidden emotions welled up in her. _Please don't go._

She shook it off. Proxima was right, and she had to be strong. "How soon can you move out?"

Proxima wordlessly stood up. That was all the answer he needed to give.

He was almost out of the cockpit, but something cried out in Yun. "Wait!"

Proxima turned his cyclopean gaze to her.

She couldn't let him leave like this. She had to say something. But her sore throat failed her, and the moment was gone.

"Please be prepared to launch if you are attacked, or if I fail to restore the cooling system," Proxima reminded her. Then he was gone, the cockpit hatch closed behind him. Gone to face monsters she could barely contemplate, and he was already wounded. Her eyes welled with tears, and this time she didn't try to stop them.

"Proxima thank you for saving my life," she whispered to the closed hatch. The words tasted like ashes in her mouth.

Behind her, the pilot's console continued to display Haddock's dire countdown: _Emergency alert: main fusion reactor primary cooling system offline. Estimated time to critical mass 37 minutes, 25 seconds._

X

**Author's Notes:**

**Good grief has it been 3 years since I last updated?**

**Yes I know I keep saying this, but many numerous apologies to any fans I still have left for the huge delay. School and work have eaten up my free time. Naturally, when I was unemployed and had free time, I was too stressed to write. Now that I'm finished school and working, I have little free time. Yup, you need dough to loaf, but you can't loaf if you have no dough :)**

**Another tough chapter to write. Switching perspectives is fun, but not easy, particularly when there's dialogue involved. If Mei Yun seems to be acting out of character in this and the prior chapter, that was intentional. Stress will do that.**

**As for the face-hugger melting through the floor while the larger Xenos did not. As I see it the face-huggers aren't strong enough to rip open doors and hatches. They have to use their blood, and they have a lot less of it to work with. By necessity their blood is much more corrosive. That's my take and I'm sticking to it.**

**Note the name of the lifeboat: **_**Theseus**__. _**The reference might be important later.**

**Just a few chapters left. Again my thanks to anyone who's still following after the huge delay. Don't know when I'll update again, but I'm quite sure it won't take another 3 years. Take care.**

**- MA**

**EDIT: Made some corrections, changed one reused sentence.**


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